Save Room
by snarkmcsnark
Summary: AU Where Rafael Barba is Nick's dad and Olivia Benson is Amanda's mom. Rafael doesn't have a lot of experience as a father, so Olivia steps in to help and provide some much-needed parenting advice. Nick has a chip on his shoulder, so Amanda steps in to remind him there's more to life than holding a grudge.
1. Lonely Town

_**AN** : This idea started when I saw a picture of Rollins and Amaro from the episode Military Justice (15.08). I remembered that scene where Barba and Benson (sort of) were scolding them for almost screwing over the investigation because they didn't know about the Garrity Rule. So, I tweeted this: **AU where Rafael is Amanda's dad (take your daughter to work day), & Liv is Nick's mom and it's like a weird Brady Bunch situation...** and then this: **actually, now that I think about it, it would make sense if the Cubans go together. But Nick being wary of his stepdad Barba. *sideeye emoji*** Anyway, so I ended up going with Rafael as Nick's dad and Liv as Amanda's mom. And relations and all that will be further explained in the story. This story is AU and I will take some creative liberties with characterization, especially with the teenage characters. However, I will try my best to stick to Nick and Amanda's personalities on the show. **Read, enjoy, and review.**_

* * *

 **Save Room**

 **1\. Lonely Town**

* * *

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Olivia Benson tugged at her daughter's duvet before she walked across the room to open the curtains. The early October sunshine filtered into the room and bounced off the light yellow walls, earning a groan from her groggy and half-asleep teenager.

With Amanda's voice muffled into the pillow, Olivia thought she heard her say 'five more minutes.' She smiled and set the cup of coffee down on the side table as she sat on the bed. Days like these were rare for the two of them, so she wanted to get a head start. They had several things they had to check off on their list – find a gift for her partner's birthday, purchase ingredients for those cupcakes they told themselves they would make when they bought the cupcake pan, and go to Barney's to score a good deal on a homecoming dress.

"We have the day off on a Wednesday," Amanda moaned, turning her head to face her mother. She shielded her eyes from the glaring daylight as she cleared her throat. "Can't you sleep in like a normal person?"

Olivia shook her head and smiled. "I don't sleep in and I don't sleep early; you should know that by now."

Amanda rolled her eyes before she buried her face back in the comfort and darkness of her pillow.

When she emerged out of her bedroom half an hour later, showered and dressed for this _epic_ day of 'mother-daughter bonding', Olivia had breakfast ready. Two glasses of her signature kale and blueberry smoothie and two bowls of granola parfait waited for them on the kitchen counter. Amanda peered over the smoothie and took a sniff before she threw its contents back in the blender. She tossed in some Froot Loops into the granola and feasted on her breakfast as she sank on the couch and watched The Today Show.

"Mom, when did Al Roker get so skinny?"

"What?"

"I said—" she stopped mid-chew, "never mind!"

Olivia emerged from the bedroom with her phone in hand and a folder in the other. She walked into the kitchen and saw Amanda's empty glass sitting in the kitchen sink. "Honey, want some more of the smoothie?"

"Uh, no, I'm pretty full."

"So…" Olivia trailed off, squeezing in next to her daughter with her own bowl of granola parfait. "I know I said no work today but I have to drop these files off at the courthouse. I promise we'll be in and out of there in fifteen minutes, tops."

Amanda twisted her mouth into a smirk. "No need to explain yourself. It's the nature of the job – I get it."

"Are you sure?"

"Mom, please," Amanda said, rising from the couch to add more Froot Loops into her bowl. "I'm the most understanding kid on the face of the planet. You should consider yourself lucky."

* * *

Everyday, since the adoption papers were finalized Olivia considered herself more than lucky to have Amanda as her daughter. It had been a long and grueling journey. It started on her first year as a detective in the 1-6. They were working a case on foster parents who filmed children so they could distribute child pornography in the black market. At the height of the investigation she and her partner, Elliot Stabler, found an abandoned infant when their suspects attempted to flee the city.

Throughout the years, Olivia followed the case of the baby girl as she moved from Child Protective Services to foster homes and back. It was a never-ending cycle for the poor girl, which Olivia couldn't understand because little Amanda was perfectly healthy. When the girl was six, her foster parents were discovered to have had a crystal meth lab in their basement. Amanda was sent back to CPS until they could find another suitable home for her, and the older she got, the more unlikely were her chances of ever being adopted.

So, in spite of the warnings people told her about raising a child on her own, Olivia asked the family courts if she could petition to adopt Amanda. They gave her a grace period of a year to see if she would make a suitable parent, and Olivia surpassed all the tests. Amanda, who had already adored her since she was a toddler, grew to love her even more. But just weeks before her grace period was up and she could finally work on the adoption papers, Olivia got a call from the Atlanta Police Department.

They found and arrested Amanda's birth mother, who was being charged for murder. It was a crime of passion. Her abusive boyfriend raped her and so she retaliated by grabbing a chef's knife and stabbing him sixteen times in the chest and the abdomen. Amanda's birth mother wanted nothing to do with her child; but APD told Olivia that Amanda's grandparents had learned of her existence and they were filing for custody of their granddaughter.

In the span of a year, Olivia had gone from a mother to a beautiful six-year-old girl back to living alone in her apartment. It was the most devastating experience of her life to watch her daughter hauled off to another state, to another family. And even when she tried to situate herself in the grandparents' shoes, she couldn't fathom why this had to happen and why they insisted on taking her away. Stabler tried to get her to understand that they were her blood relatives, and Amanda had a younger half-sister, so maybe they just wanted her to have a real family. Olivia recalled avoiding her partner for weeks after that, because how dare he say that she didn't count as 'real family'.

Thankfully, they were decent people – at least, that's what Olivia was made to believe in the beginning. Her grandparents allowed Olivia and Amanda to exchange letters; and although they never made trips up to New York, Olivia tried to come down to rural Loganville to visit and see how she was doing. While it was painful, she was comforted by the fact that Amanda was doing well in school and enjoying having a little sister.

Then Amanda turned twelve, and the communication just came to a grinding halt. Letters stopped arriving. The family changed phone numbers. After weeks of searching, Olivia tracked them down to a different, more remote town and by the time she took a flight down to Atlanta, news had spread of a runaway. APD was convinced that Olivia had kidnapped the child, and while she was down there it was like a witch-hunt, where they tried to charge her with all sorts of bogus claims, just because their department was so incapable of finding Amanda.

In the end, Amanda was found after a joint effort by SVU and the APD. Olivia remembered the first time she locked eyes with Amanda and how her little girl ran towards her and desperately clung to her shoulders. She was weeping and telling her that she didn't want to go back to her grandparents. They didn't physically abuse her, but there were years of emotional and psychological trauma brought about by a cult-like religious indoctrination. With her birth mother wanting nothing to do with her, and her grandparents giving up on their 'sinful' child, Olivia had a chance to take her back to New York and legally become her parent.

It was a tough road, but Olivia definitely considered herself lucky.

* * *

"Detective Benson," Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba announced, scanning his eyes from the top of her $60 haircut to her practical black boots. He snuck in a sneer before he looked up to meet her warm brown eyes. "I was unaware that it was take your daughter to work day."

Olivia forced a smile and placed an arm on her daughter's shoulder. "ADA Barba, Amanda," she introduced, "honey, this is the new ADA who will be working with the unit on most of our future cases."

"Well, detective, I wouldn't say I'm 'new'." He lowered his head and smirked. "I'm simply changing the scenery."

"You mean, transferring out of Brooklyn?"

"Is your mother always this pleasant?" He turned to the blonde teenager.

Amanda rolled her eyes, trying her best to be patient. While she told her mom that she could understand why their little side adventure to the courthouse was necessary, it still wasn't her idea of fun. To make matters worse, she had to deal with smartass lawyers dressed in flashy suits that were worth more than her school's athletic program. "They don't call her the heart of SVU for nothin'." She forced a smile.

Barba cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brows. "That accent," he pointed out, "South Carolina?"

"Georgia," Olivia answered. Amanda's childhood was something neither one of the girls hashed over with just anyone. She knew Barba could easily pull some strings and figure out their story, but here and now was neither the time nor the place. "Enough small talk, I'm here to discuss the Jocelyn Paley case."

"Yes, yes, of course," He said, ushering them out to the hall and towards a private conference room.

Olivia turned to Amanda as soon as they reached the doorway. "Honey," she said, pulling out a wad of bills from her pocket. "Why don't you wait outside by the hotdog cart and get us lunch. I'll be out in ten minutes, I promise."

Amanda held her hand out as her mother dropped a ten on her palm, but she kept her hand out and Olivia shook her head and added another bill. Smiling broadly, the blonde girl whipped around and practically sprinted down the hall.

"Teenagers," Olivia chuckled, shaking her head. "Do you have any kids?"

"Huh? Me?" Barba gestured to himself and looked around, realizing there was no one else the detective could be directing her question to. "Yeah… Uh, I have a 15… no, 16-year-old."

"Really? You married?"

Barba narrowed his eyes. "Are we investigating the Paley case or my personal life, detective?"

Olivia shrugged and smiled. "You're right," she said, drawing out the case file and showing him what the squad had uncovered on the rapist, Adam Cain.

* * *

Amanda sat at the courthouse steps and checked the time on her phone. She had been waiting fourteen minutes now, and her mom's hotdog was getting cold and the ice had already diluted her diet coke. Tapping her feet impatiently, she observed the suits, with their briefcases on hand and cell phones pressed up against their ears, running up and down the courthouse steps.

She was never really a big fan of lawyers. Maybe it had something to do with them always making promises of nice, normal families adopting her; when there was never any follow-through. Then there was mom's ex-boyfriend, David Haden. He seemed nice at first, but Amanda always had this gut feeling that something was wrong with him. Her mom mentioned it was probably because she didn't trust lawyers, but it turned out Amanda was right about him. What was it that her best friend said about David Haden after that citywide scandal? He said David Haden had a black book of escorts that could rival Drake's.

Then he started randomly singing Marvin's Room whenever Olivia was around, _"I'm just sayin' you could do better."_

Speaking of her gay best friend, homecoming date, and track team rival – Amanda just received a text from Wesley Jordan himself.

 _[How's the dress shopping going?]_

 _[Oh, fantastic. So many options at the supreme court.]_

 _[Mama got called into work again? *sad face emoji* Well, when you finally get your ass to Barney's, remember that you look gorge in blue and purple, but you don't look so hot in hot pink.]_

 _[Rude.]_

 _[Do you have anything hot pink in your closet?]_

 _[No.]_

 _[Well, I rest my case, your honor.]_

"I'm so sorry I ran late, honey." Olivia dashed down the steps. She stopped and looked down at her daughter, who was typing away at her phone. "Hey, are you texting Wes?"

Amanda craned her neck up to see her mom standing a step behind her. "Mhmmm… he wants to know how the dress shopping is going. Wants to make sure I look worthy to be his date."

"Did he really say that?" Olivia narrowed her eyes.

"Mom," she passed the cold hotdog and the drink over to Olivia. "It's Wes. It's implied."

"You know, I think it's sweet that you two are going together as friends. But I don't see why neither one of you could find more…" she paused, debating her word choice, "satisfactory dates for homecoming. You're pretty, he's attractive…"

Amanda stuck out her tongue when Olivia called her pretty. "A bunch of guys asked him, but he doesn't like any of them because they're not Jorge."

"Who's Jorge?"

"Some guy who lives in his building," Amanda reported, standing up to follow her mom to their parked car. "He's a bike messenger and a soul cycle trainer and apparently he has really sexy calves."

"Wes is 15, and this Jorge must be in his twenties at least," Olivia reminded her.

"See, mom," Amanda groaned, raising her arms up in defeat. "This is why I don't tell you about my 60-year-old sugar daddy who works in Wall Street."

Olivia blinked hard and her jaw dropped, before she finally unlocked the car. "You have a strange sense of humor, Amanda."

* * *

Rafael tossed the folders on top of the pile before he closed the Hermes briefcase. It had been an eventful day but it looked like, for the first time all month, he would actually make it home before dusk. "Spoke too soon," he muttered to himself as the intercom buzzed.

"What is it now, Susan?" he impatiently asked his secretary.

"It's Isabella Amaro on line one."

Rafael grumbled an epithet, rolling his eyes until he could practically feel them trundling about in the back of his skull. "Put her through."

When the receiver picked up the sound from the other line, he could hear the familiar voice that, to him, was practically synonymous to the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Isabella was directing orders at whatever poor, unfortunate soul had to be her assistant of the week. Rafael gave her a few seconds to realize that she was on the line, before he got tired of hearing her badger the poor girl and spoke up. "Bella, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, Rafi," she greeted in that naturally seductive tone. "I thought that secretary of yours… Sally… no, Sarah… put me on hold. Anyway, I was wondering if you were free to have dinner tonight—"

"Eh, I'm a little swamped with work right now."

"Please," she said sardonically, stressing the vowels in the word. "You work for the city. You can spare an hour to meet with your ex-wife and your son for dinner. I have something important to tell you."

"Is he in trouble?"

"What makes you think Nicholas is in trouble?" Isabella replied defensively. "He's a good boy. I've raised him well."

"Aha, sure you have," Rafael said, rummaging through his drawers, looking for that bottle of aspirin. "Tell me again, wasn't it your housekeeper, Marta, who changed all of his diapers and took him to his first day of preschool?"

"You're one to talk," she scoffed. "When was the last time you had a conversation with your son where he didn't reply with a simple yes or no answer?"

"You sue me for full custody of our kid, who you don't even have the time for, and then you blame me for being the absent parent. That is rich, Bella."

"Look, Rafi," Isabella sighed. "I'm not going to get into this argument with you for the thousandth fucking time. But will you please show up to dinner tonight at seven at Garibaldi's. Do _not_ be late."

* * *

The time on his Rolex read 7:27PM. Rafael tried to look pleased and content with his wine as the waiter passed by. The tuxedoed gentleman must have assumed Rafael had been stood up because he cast him an apologetic smile. His ex-wife was consistently punctual for meetings and court dates, but whenever it involved him, she just simply didn't care. He downed his glass of wine and pulled his sleeve up to check the time again, but the hour and minute hands had remained stationary.

"Rafi."

He stood up and turned around to see his ex-wife dressed in a sleek pantsuit with her Chanel purse tucked above her elbow. It had been weeks since he last saw her, but now she was sporting a dark blonde, cropped do. "You're late," he muttered as she kissed both his cheeks.

"Nicholas had soccer practice until seven," she informed him.

"But you said to meet here at seven," Rafael began to argue, but stopped when he saw his son lower his head, embarrassed to have the other patrons watch their hostile family reunion. "But you're both here now. Let's have dinner, shall we?"

When Rafael met Isabella Amaro at Harvard Law School, he was captivated by her. She was beautiful, sophisticated, brilliant – an absolute goddess in five-inch Manolo Blahniks. He pined for this unobtainable woman, who never seemed to notice him unless he was beating out her test scores or reaping more attention from their professors. He watched, as she became one of the fastest rising corporate lawyers in the city. And even though he had heard horror stories about her narcissism, and her high-strung and cutthroat personality, he was still infatuated by the idea of her.

In Isabella's mind, it was a moment of weakness and poor judgment to sleep with Rafael Barba from law school. But a one-night stand turned into a pregnancy scare that had developed into a social and moral nightmare that could only be rectified by a ring on her finger. At the time, there was nothing more vulgar and ill-bred than an Italian Catholic with a child born out of wedlock. So she manipulated the Harvard charity case into marrying her. He said he loved her, and it was sort of like doing him a favor. Two years later, their divorce was finalized.

Stranded in the middle of it all was their son, Nicholas. Fortunately, Isabella could afford a staff of nannies, housekeepers, and chauffeurs to raise her child. Considering most of the staff she'd hired were of Hispanic descent, her half-Cuban child learned to speak fluent Spanish at the same time he grasped the English language. Rafael, his mother, and his grandmother were all shocked, but rather delighted, to find out that little Nick had learned to speak their mother tongue without any effort on their part.

Surprisingly, Nick had matured into a disciplined and responsible kid, all things considered. To his parents, they thought he was maybe too reserved and rather shy. But at the end of the day, he didn't give them any more trouble than they gave each other. Nick was just _there_. But perhaps that sentiment stemmed from Rafael and Isabella's common detachment and lack of interest in their son's life. No one was winning any 'parent of the year' awards in this family.

"I'll just have the wine," Isabella pursed her enhanced lips at the waiter. "We can't stay too long. I have a masseuse scheduled to come to the house at 8:30."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not," she countered, casting him a confused look. "Anyway, I have some exciting news. As you know, I have been name partner at Goldman Powell Amaro for the last six years –"

"Is this going somewhere or are you just gloating?"

Isabella stared icily at him. "Like I was saying, it's been six fulfilling years and I figured it was time for a change. And just in time, I got an offer as the top in-house lawyer for one of the biggest agencies in Hollywood – Elite Management." She paused to smirk at her ex-husband, whose eyes had widened. "So, I'm moving to LA next week."

"Next week?" Rafael repeated.

"Right, that's why we," she announced, reaching over to fix the collar of her son's shirt, "wanted to talk to you about Nicholas moving in with you."

"Wait, what?"

"Don't sound too excited," Isabella said sarcastically. "He wants to stay in the city and finish school here with his friends, but in order to stay here, he needs to live with an adult." She laid her palms out in front of her ex.

"Me?" Rafael asked, turning to his son, "you want to live with me?"

Nick exhaled deeply and ran his hands through his hair. "Well, I wouldn't say 'want', but it's not like I have much of a choice."

"So?" Isabella asked, tilting her head to the side as she awaited his response.

"Uh…"

"You know what, dad," Nick said, throwing his napkin on the table. "Forget it. I should've known you'd never agree to this."

"No, no, no… Nick, I want you to stay," He rushed out, his forehead creasing as he pondered the new arrangement. Nick hadn't lived with him since he was two, and even then Rafael barely knew how to interact with a toddler. And he hadn't had a roommate since college, so this new development was a little bewildering. "You're welcome to live with me. It's your house, too."

"Really?" Nick asked in surprise. His eyes lit up and his mouth curled into a smile that highlighted his dimples. It was baffling how two people who despised each other so much could create such a precious child.

Isabella clapped her hands together as she beamed from ear to ear. "Well, glad that's now settled."

Rafael straightened in his seat and raised the glass to his lips. Of course he was thrilled to have his son live with him, but he would be lying if he didn't admit he was scared shitless. On paper, he had been a father for the last sixteen years. And while he had shown up for birthdays and graduations and helped out with the occasional science project, he just didn't know what day-to-day life was like with a teenager. He glanced across the table to see Nick texting on his phone, and smiling at whatever message he just received. Rafael took deep breaths through his nose to calm himself; he pressed two fingers to his temple as he felt a migraine coming on.

What the fuck did he just get himself into?


	2. Cool Kids

_**AN** : I just want to say thank you to the lovely people who spared a few seconds to review this fic. Also, thank you to those who added this to their favorites and followed; please don't be shy to let me know what you think. Another quick note: this chapter will feature Maria; however, her character will be nothing like it was on the show. I just want you to picture a younger Laura Benanti when you're reading the scenes. _

_Read, enjoy, and review._

* * *

 **Save Room**

 **2\. Cool Kids**

* * *

Rows of boxes ran along the walls of Nick's bedroom. His door was ajar so he could hear his mother talking to her real estate agent on the phone, telling her to email the listings of her future bachelorette pad. "I want modern not clinical, but no midcentury – I fucking hate anything that reminds me of the seventies."

Nick transferred the contents of his bookshelves into the moving boxes. He taped them up and scrawled 'books' on the side, before he repeated the process.

Packing was methodical work that didn't require much thought, so it allowed his mind to wander back to their earlier dinner conversation. His mom made the announcement that she was moving to California, and she sandbagged his dad into agreeing to let Nick move in with him. That was his mom. She lived according to her schedule and her own rules; there was no arguing with her – not when she was paid seven figures a year to close corporate mergers and buyouts.

Not that his dad was a pushover. He was a well-respected Assistant District Attorney in Manhattan, and in the courtroom he had proven to be more than capable of winning even the toughest cases. But when it came to their marriage, his dad just stood back and let his ex-wife railroad him, forcing him into making decisions he clearly didn't want to make. Like saying 'yes' to his 16-year-old kid moving in, for instance.

But it was the only way Nick could stay in the city and finish high school with his friends. He didn't want to go to Los Angeles and be the new kid; he never did like change very much.

Nick sat on his heels as he pulled out a handful of CDs from the shelf. He didn't even listen to most of these bands anymore; anything that he listened to was stored digitally on either his computer or his iPod. He chucked them into a box labeled 'donate' and threw the rest of the CDs in without bothering to check if there were a few special enough to keep.

There was a knock on the door.

His head snapped up to see his girlfriend smiling at him from the doorway. "Hey," he said, pushing himself off the floor. "Here to help out?"

Maria wrapped her arms around his waist. "Mhmmm… I'm so happy you're staying."

"Me too."

"So you're living with your dad now, huh?" Maria pulled away slightly to study his expression. She knew Nick wasn't close to his dad, and whenever she asked him questions about the mysterious Mr. Barba, he was always cagey. "Where does he live again?"

"Greenwich Village," Nick replied. "You can't just take the elevator up to see me anymore, but at least it's better than flying out to LA."

Maria giggled softly and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "There are cute restaurants in The Village," she said, her eyes sparkling as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah, we could try them out," Nick said, walking back to the boxes to resume packing.

Instead of helping, Maria laid back on his bed and watched him pack as she asked him questions about his mom's new job. Nick wasn't really sure about the specifics of the job but he knew his mom was going to be an in-house lawyer for a Hollywood agency, which meant she would get to rub elbows with celebrities.

"That is so cool." Maria stared lazily up at the ceiling as she kicked off her shoes and inched up on his bed. "Maybe I can come with you when you go down there for the holidays. Do you think she'll introduce us to someone famous?"

He shrugged.

"Hey, babe."

"Yeah?"

Maria turned over on her side to face him and rested her head on hand. "So, I heard your mom talking on the phone and she said she's going to the Hamptons this weekend for some launch party. And I was thinking, since you're moving out and we've had so many good memories in this place; maybe we should throw a party."

Nick looked over his shoulder and checked to see if Maria was being serious. "I don't know…"

"Come on," she said. "It'll be intimate. Just us and some friends from school."

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he pondered the idea. "Ten people max."

She nodded. "Got it."

Turning back to the boxes, he picked up a little league baseball trophy and debated whether it should go into the 'donate' box or the 'miscellaneous' box. He wasn't very sentimental. And while he had a good memory of scoring the game-winning run, he also remembered how neither of his parents was cheering for him on the bleachers. So when the game was over and the rest of his teammates ran to their parents, he kicked the dirt around on home plate until his coach asked him if anyone was coming to pick him up.

The trophy went into the 'donate' box.

"Is your mom still dating that writer?" Maria asked.

"I thought you came over to help me pack." Nick avoided the question. He didn't mind so much when Maria gossiped about other people; he just figured that's what girls did. But, he did mind when she was suddenly interested in his mom's personal life – particularly her sex life. And it shouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why this topic was off-limits.

She tossed a baseball into the 'donate' box. "There," she said.

Nick narrowed his eyes at her before he fished out the baseball. "This is a Derek Jeter foul ball."

Maria feigned surprise as she opened her mouth and widened her eyes. "Didn't think you were so sentimental."

"I'm not," he shot back defensively.

"So, is your mom still dating that writer for NBC or not?" She asked, failing to heed his silent warning not to talk about his mother. "Because I heard he's gay."

"I don't know," he replied exasperatedly. "She's got a revolving door of guys she fucks on the regular. I don't keep track."

She exhaled deeply and blinked hard. "Wow."

Nick shook his head and sighed before he returned back to the methodical process of packing his life into boxes. He was sorting through his video games when he felt his girlfriend's arms wrap around him from behind. She rested her chin on his shoulder as she tried to take the CD case away from his hands.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

"I haven't finished packing."

"You don't have to move until next Friday…" Her breath tickled his ear and he had to lower his head and turn away so she wouldn't win out the battle. "Besides, you can pay people to do this for you."

"I don't like people touching my stuff."

"Paranoid much?"

"No," he said firmly, taking the video games back and setting them inside the box. "I just want things done right."

"You know what else you can do right?" She whispered into his ear, tugging at his earlobe with her teeth. She ran her fingers down his biceps and squeezed his tensed muscles. With a sharp intake of air, Nick closed his eyes before he relaxed into her touch. "That's right, baby." Maria smiled seductively, tossing her hair over her exposed shoulder.

 _So much for willpower._

* * *

The elevator dinged to announce he had arrived at his chosen floor. The doors opened and he stepped into the hallway, immediately feeling fidgety amongst the uniformed officers and detectives in their two for $14 Van Heusen shirts and tacky ties. He turned towards the bullpen to find some familiar faces drawn towards a corkboard. In the center of the board was Jocelyn Paley's picture, with lines around it pointing to pictures of her rapist, her ex-boyfriend, and her English professor.

"Good morning, counselor," Olivia greeted, pivoting in her seat to smile up at the ADA.

"Morning," he said with a close-mouthed smile.

They talked about the case moving forward. Cragen sent Fin and Munch to Maryland to talk to the professor and the ex-boyfriend. Benson and Stabler were to stay in the city and keep an eye out for any new leads.

Upon meeting the rest of the squad, Rafael felt at ease with almost everyone. Captain Cragen was a true professional, just like Olivia. And while Fin and Munch were not the type of people he usually kept in close company, he valued their warm welcome and their input on the case. He wasn't too sure about Elliot, who appeared to judge him the moment he walked into the room. As a man who dressed confidently and without any reservations, Rafael was accustomed to the stares and the assumptions.

Most of the time, he brushed it off but there was something about Elliot's appraisal of him that made him feel insecure. It didn't sit well with him. However, Rafael knew how to fake confidence and so he relied on that and hoped his delivery would be convincing enough. He tilted his chin up as he told the unit, that under no circumstances were they going to win this case unless they had evidence to prove that Jocelyn did not want to be humiliated and sodomized. The squad collectively agreed.

He closed his briefcase and was about to head out when he saw an officer escort a teenage male into holding. The kid couldn't have been older than 17.

"What's he in for?"

Olivia followed Rafael's gaze. "Oh, him? He was on his way to school this morning when he exposed himself to a group of female tourists taking pictures in at the park."

He continued to watch the scene unfold. The teenager tried to resist while in his restraints, and two officers had to push him up against the wall to tell him to calm down. "Those girls were lyin'! I was just adjusting my junk," the teenager tried to explain; but neither officer was hearing it.

"Something wrong?" Olivia asked, cocking her head to the side to block Rafael's view.

"Oh, it's nothing," he said, shaking the scene out of his consciousness. But she kept her eyes curiously on him like this was an interrogation and she expected him to give her an answer. "I…" he began. And he didn't know what it was that compelled him to tell her; maybe it was her eyes or maybe it was the way Stabler was glaring at him from his desk. "My ex-wife dropped a bomb on me last night. She received a job offer in LA, and in order for my son to finish school in the city, he has to move in with me."

"Has to?"

"Well," Rafael sighed, "when you repeat it to me like that, it sounds awful."

"What's the problem?"

"I haven't lived with the kid since he was two. And even then, I barely got to see him because I was too busy with work," he admitted, casting his eyes away from Olivia when he saw that flicker of judgment. "I know… I know… I'm a terrible father. It's not an excuse, but when my wife sued me for full custody, it became too difficult to make an effort to form a relationship with my son. Looking back, I should have tried harder."

"It's not too late, counselor," she said. "You have that chance now."

He sighed deeply. "But I have no idea what to do. A 16-year-old kid living with me?" His eyes widened as the realization dawned on him again. "Should I be terrified that he'll do something like that?" Rafael gestured his hand over to the teenage suspect.

"No, of course not. I'm sure your son is a good kid," Olivia assured him. "Just talk to him, get to know him, and see what sort of ground rules he had to live under while he was living with his mom. Then adjust accordingly."

"That's the problem; his mom has never set any rules for him." he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. She looked back at him sympathetically, knowing exactly what he was describing. With her job, she'd met every kind of parent; and for every helicopter parent there were those who set absolutely no boundaries for their children. Olivia watched as Rafael's face had gone from hopelessness to optimism. "Nick sets the rules for himself and, you know what, he's managed to do well on his own. You're right, detective. He's a good kid and I shouldn't be worried."

"You'll be fine, counselor," Olivia said, smiling at him. "And if you need anything like help or advice… call me anytime."

* * *

"Mom, that's salt."

Olivia's eyes widened as she eyed the measuring cup that was brimming with what she thought was sugar. She took a pinch and pressed it against her tongue and, sure enough, Amanda was right.

"See," her daughter indicated at the ceramic jars on the counter. "That's what you get for putting all our baking ingredients in these ridiculous containers. Just keep them in the bag they came in like normal people."

"But look at them," Olivia said, gesturing at her finds from the big Pottery Barn sale last summer. She never pictured herself to be the type of person who cared about these things with her hectic career and all. But ever since that mess in Atlanta and ever since Amanda moved in with her, Olivia wanted to make their apartment feel like home. What started out as a project to redecorate her former office into Amanda's bedroom turned into a slight obsession with interior design. Her partner gave her a hard time about it when he caught her perusing catalogs for the perfect lamp and marking the pages with post-its. He teasingly said motherhood was bringing out her feminine side. And she may have crinkled her nose and squinted her eyes, but she didn't think that was such a bad thing.

"Maybe if we labeled them with a Sharpie…"

"Don't you dare," Olivia raised her voice and held a finger up.

Amanda smirked before she walked around the counter so she could be a better assistant baker. Her mom clearly needed the help. She softened the butter with the spatula while Olivia returned the salt in its container and replaced it with sugar.

With the cupcakes in the oven and their fingers crossed in anticipation, both girls turned their attention to the frosting.

"Can't we just use the Betty Crocker stuff that comes in the jar?" Amanda asked.

"What's the point of making cupcakes from scratch if we're just going to use store-bought frosting?"

Her daughter shrugged her shoulders before she pulled out her cell phone to read a new message. "Wes and Claire are coming up."

"Did they hear about the cupcakes?" Olivia smiled. She was so happy that Amanda had quickly made friends in her new school. Although the three of them had an odd sense of humor and they all couldn't be more different, they were good kids and they made her daughter happy. "They're welcome to test it out."

"I'm sure they'd love that," Amanda replied. "Oh, shoot! Claire can't have them… the eggs."

"Right…" Olivia said, snapping her fingers. "The vegan thing. How long has this been going on?"

"Two weeks," Amanda answered. "It would've been two months if she hadn't had that Shake Shack burger in a moment of weakness."

"You mean, when they cancelled her favorite show?"

"It was a big deal for her, mom." Amanda placed her hand over her chest and shook her head morosely. "She ran a tumblr dedicated to that show."

Olivia sighed as she stirred the blue food coloring into the confectioner's sugar. "I still don't understand how she found the time for that blog when she had school, debate, and whatever hunger strike or movement was keeping her occupied for the week."

"Have you met Claire?" Amanda asked rhetorically. "Girl doesn't sleep until the chickens can graze in open pastures. She'll be wired and awake for a while."

When her friends arrived, the apartment was full of life. Olivia loved having them over because it gave her so much joy to see her teenager have the life she deserved. While Olivia didn't understand what they were talking about half the time, their antics and strange conversations still made her laugh, which was a nice break from the dreary nature of her work.

Wes leaned over the counter to try to stick his finger in the icing. Amanda shoved his hand away and glared at him. "My mom will cut your finger off."

"She's right," Olivia said, throwing a warning look from over her shoulder. The cupcakes were almost done but they had to be cooled for 15 minutes until she could frost and decorate them. No one ever warned her that baking would require so much patience.

"Hey," Claire said, her brows wagging as she turned to Amanda. "Can I see your homecoming dress?"

Amanda beamed. "Sure!" she said, taking Claire's hand and running off to her bedroom.

"I wanna see too!" Wes said, hopping off the stool to follow his friends.

"Don't you think it should be a surprise?" Olivia asked Wes. "You _are_ her date."

Wes chuckled and shook his head. "It's not like we're getting married. Besides, I gotta see what shade of blue this dress is in so I can complement it with my pocket square."

When Wes entered the room, Claire was helping Amanda zip up the back of her dress. It was in a rich blue that was somewhere in the spectrum between cobalt and navy. The soft, silk chiffon fell just above her knees and the thin straps framed her delicate collarbone. Even with her hair done up in a messy bun, she looked exquisite.

"You almost had me thinking I was straight," Wes said from the doorway. "Almost."

"Amanda!" Claire squealed, gesturing with her hand to turn around. Amanda did a hesitant twirl before she jokingly curtsied. "The dress is perfect!"

"Really?" Amanda asked dubiously, twisting her mouth.

"She's right," Wes answered, walking into the room and sitting on the foot of the bed beside Claire. "You look like Taylor Swift's petite, but more attractive little sister."

Amanda made a face at him before she looked at herself in the mirror. When she tried on the dress at Barney's and emerged out of the dressing room, her mom had said the same thing. Well, not the exact same thing; but the message was the same – she looked great in the little off-the-rack number. And it was on sale, too.

"Ladies, clear your plans for tonight because I got the hook up."

Claire and Amanda exchanged a confused look.

"I know this guy who's friends with this guy who's dating this girl who goes to St. Francis Prep," Wes explained, drawing an imaginary web of their relationships. "Anyway, he said there's a big house party at Tribeca tonight. I'm talkin' spoiled brats with free rein on mommy and daddy's liquor cabinet. Not to mention, the Catholic school boys – Mmmm…"

Claire and Amanda laughed. "You planning on corrupting anyone?" Claire raised an eyebrow.

"Me? Corrupt a choirboy?" He placed his hand over his heart and pretended to be offended. "Those guys are so repressed; you put them in this type of situation and their inner devil comes out. Trust me, they'll be the ones on their knees—"

"Okay, okay, stop!" Amanda raised her hand and glared at him. "My mom's outside. She could hear you."

"So, are you guys in?"

Amanda and Claire exchanged a look and smiled.

* * *

The three friends craned their necks and stared up at the luxury high-rise.

"So this is how the one percent lives?" Claire observed.

"Do we just walk in?" Amanda asked, turning to Wes. "We don't know anybody here."

"No, you don't know anybody here," Wes replied, looking Amanda in the eye. "I know a guy who knows a –"

"Yeah, we got it," both girls declared in unison.

"Come on, there's gonna be like a hundred people inside," Wes said, leading the way into the building and smiling confidently at the doorman who let them through. "We'll blend in."

The party was like nothing else these kids had ever been to. The walls were reverberating as the music blasted through the speakers. People were pressed up against each other, some getting a little too close for comfort. Drinks were being passed around, and no one cared about whose red plastic cup belonged to whom.

Amanda shared a smile with Claire as they coursed their way inside the penthouse. It was probably six times the size of her and her mom's apartment, and the place still had a second level. The wide open space allowed for them to scope out the scene and observe the madness going on around them.

They split up, with Wes immediately casting his fishing line on a tall blond, Claire heading towards the DJ to see what mix he was playing, and Amanda advancing towards the source of alcohol.

For the most part, Amanda considered herself to be a good kid. She stayed out of any sort of trouble that would add stress to her mother's life, but she was still a teenager. There were still things she wouldn't share with Olivia. She also had issues she hadn't addressed even though she was encouraged to go see her therapist every Tuesday after school. Besides all the biological changes that happened with adolescence, a rough childhood had the potential of catalyzing certain forms of teenage rebellion.

Sometimes, Amanda just wanted to create these moments to remind herself that she escaped Georgia and she was now finally free.

She lowered her head and dodged a glance directed at her as she made her way through the mass of people. Amanda was already on her fourth drink, and she had even made conversation with a few kids from St. Francis. They seemed pretty cool and not as stuck-up as she initially suspected. But when they started asking about her accent, that was when she excused herself from their cute, little icebreaker.

"Oh my god!" Someone tugged at her arm and spun her around. Amanda whipped around to see Claire, who was now sporting neon yellow paint across her cheeks. "These people are wild!" She exclaimed, pointing to the kitchen where kids their age were doing body shots off of each other.

"I know right? Why haven't we been crashing St. Francis parties before?" Amanda laughed with her friend. "Where's Wes? I could give him a big fat kiss for taking us here."

"I don't know," Claire leaned into her ear and screamed it over the loud electronic dance music. "Last I saw him, he was talking to this beefcake – broad shoulders, square jaw, dumb as rocks. You know, totally the type of guy he likes to corrupt."

"Speaking of 'types', there's one that fits yours over at two o'clock," Amanda said, cocking her head to that direction. Her friend tried to turn around, but she stopped her by grabbing both arms. "No, don't look. He's looking this way… Just be cool, Claire. Deep breaths. You can do this."

"I can do this."

"Now, walk over there and ask him if those glasses are prescription or if he's just being a hipster."

"You are so mean," Claire snapped back, lightly punching her on the shoulder. "What about you? No one here your type?"

"Here?" Amanda scoffed. "Not a chance."

* * *

The entire night was out of control. Nick remembered specifically telling Maria that she could invite ten people maximum, and looking around, he was positive there were close to two-hundred people in his house.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he needed to be responsible, but he couldn't just kick all these people out. They were his friends from school – well, most of them anyway. He was pretty sure had never seen that black guy, who was making out with his soccer teammate. There was no way he could show up to school on Monday and be known as the killjoy who stopped the party. So he decided to just hang back, drink, and watch out for anyone breaking anything.

Nick fell off balance as his drunken girlfriend flailed and threw herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned on him for support, while she wobbled on her five-inch heels. She smiled up at him with her lidded eyes and her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He held her by the waist and pushed her back slightly, veering his head away because he didn't want to have to look at her.

"Baby, let's dance," she slurred.

"No," he replied firmly. "Maria, you've had too much to drink."

"No," she countered, getting on her tiptoes to kiss him, instead catching the corner of his mouth. "You haven't had enough to drink. Why don't you loosen up?"

Nick ignored her as he watched more people come in through the door. He groaned in frustration and licked his lips. "How many people did you invite to this thing?"

"I invited our friends," she said, looking up to appear thoughtful. "And then I told them they could invite other people…"

"For fuck's sake."

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so, so sorry…" She leaned against him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Nick was getting smirks from his friends who must've assumed he was getting laid tonight. "I swear I didn't know it would get this," she hiccupped, "out of hand."

"Okay, okay, you're getting sloppy," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the stairs. "Let's go to my room."

"Oh," she said as her eyes lit up. "That's good, because I'm also in the mood."

Nick ignored her and led her upstairs to his bedroom. He laid her down and set a bottle of water on the nightstand. She still tried to pull him into bed and make out with him, but he resisted her advances. For one thing, he was angry with her; and he also didn't want to take advantage of her while she was in this state – girlfriend or not. With a smile still plastered on her face, Maria began to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. He sighed and leaned down to press a kiss on top of her head, before he turned off the lights and headed back down to the party.

As he sprinted down the stairs, something caught his eye. There was a broken vase on the floor and a few people had filled beer into his mom's wine glasses. But he couldn't care less. He squinted to see a flash of blonde hair and a smile that stopped him right in his tracks. He'd never seen her before, certainly not at school; otherwise he wouldn't have been staring at her. And she wouldn't have diverted her attention from the person she was speaking with, and glanced up to meet his eyes.

 _Who was she?_


	3. Fire Escape

_**AN:** Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. I'm so happy to see that people are excited to see where this story is going, and that people who don't normally read AU fics are giving this a chance. _

_Please read, enjoy, and review!_

* * *

 **Save Room**

 **3\. Fire Escape**

* * *

One second, she was half-listening to this guy ramble on about how there's this one strain of weed that only made him crave his deceased grandmother's oatmeal raisin cookies. And the next second, she wasn't listening at all as she found herself completely lost in the warm, soulful eyes of a boy.

Amanda didn't believe in that love-at-first-sight bullshit. Those scenes where strangers gazed longingly at each other from across the room while everything else around them ceased to exist – those scenes were full of crap. That stuff never happened in real life, especially not in this day and age when people could just go online or log into an app on their phone, and filter out potential matches based on a profile picture and a list of carefully curated interests. But standing there in the midst of sweaty kids with alcohol-reduced inhibitions, Amanda's gaze fixed on the boy as her insides swarmed with, what felt like, butterflies.

Her first instinct was to suppress down the strange feeling and avert her attention back to the guy, who was still rambling about his bad trip. His name was Josh or John or Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt. Or maybe it didn't even start with a 'J'. Amanda blinked before her eyes flickered up to the stairs; but the boy was gone.

She excused herself from the one-way conversation and barely had enough time to witness the dejected expression on his face. Scanning the room, Amanda searched for signs of Wes and Claire. Wes wouldn't be too hard to find considering he'd probably be one of a few black people in the party; Claire, on the other hand, would be impossible seeing as she was at least a foot shorter than everyone else in the room. When she couldn't find her friends, she pulled out her phone to send a quick group text.

 _[Where are you?]_

On most occasions, Claire was on top of replying to messages since her phone was like an auxiliary limb on her body. The lack of response was a bit worrisome, but Amanda figured Claire must have hit it off with the hipster kid with the ironic glasses; and Wes must have run off to corrupt a Catholic boy. She didn't want to ruin the fun for her two best friends.

 _[I'm heading out. Meet y'all back at Claire's.]_

She slipped her phone into her back pocket and started for the door. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the party, because she really liked the drinks and the music; and the people weren't as snobby as she anticipated. They might've lived in a different zip code, but they were still teenagers just like her. Amanda just didn't feel like staying and talking to anyone there. Especially not when the guys who approached her only seemed to want one thing.

Anytime she just didn't feel like being somewhere, she had a habit of running. It was something Wes and Claire were both used to; and something that any guy who was ever interested in Amanda had to experience. Wes and Claire were good friends who chalked it up to a rough childhood and those few days Amanda went missing when she ran away from her home in Georgia. Most of the time, they didn't give her grief for it. But she knew that ditching her friends was a selfish act and it was something she really needed to work on. At least tonight, she sent them a warning text.

Reaching for the door, her movements came to a halt when she saw another hand get to the knob first.

"Leaving already?"

Amanda looked up to see the boy from the stairs. He tilted his head to the side and smirked.

"Yeah," she said, not breaking eye contact. "I just needed some air."

"Me too," he replied. "Mind if I join you?"

They walked out the hall in silence. He kept his hands in his jacket pocket until they reached the elevator and he pressed the down button. Amanda observed him from the corner of her eye. He was definitely a St. Francis kid. She could tell from the crisp white oxford shirt and the navy jacket that she'd once seen on a J. Crew mannequin.

When they stepped into the elevator, he turned to her and extended his arm out. "I'm Nick, by the way."

"Mandy," she replied, shaking his hand. He had a firm handshake. It reminded her of her mom's partner, Elliot.

They stood in silence until they arrived at the lobby and the elevator doors slid open. They walked out, and on the way, the doorman tipped his hat and wished them both a good evening. Amanda stood outside the door and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket. She flipped the lid and offered them to Nick, who shook his head.

"I don't smoke."

"Oh, okay," she said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Amanda didn't smoke very often – only when she was feeling skittish or overwhelmed. Her mom would kill her if she found out about her habit, but she actually reveled in the danger of sneaking around and not getting caught.

"I thought you wanted fresh air," Nick chuckled softly, watching her take a drag.

Amanda exhaled and smirked. "You're not one of those people who'll show me a picture of black lungs to convince me to quit?"

"Don't need to," he answered, "they already have it on the box."

She looked down at her pack of Parliaments and saw no pictures of black lungs or dead babies; just a sticker that said, 'Smoking Kills'. It wasn't very convincing.

"You don't go to St. Francis, do you?"

Amanda blew a puff of smoke into the cool October air. "Nope."

"Are you going to tell me what school you go to?"

"I don't think you asked."

"That Southern accent," he said, furrowing his brows. "Are you even from New York?"

"It's a long story." Amanda stared wistfully into his eyes. There was something about those eyes that made her want to tell him the _long story_.

Nick studied her carefully. Feeling under the microscope, Amanda averted her gaze to the other side of the street.

"Are you hungry?" She asked him seemingly out-of-the-blue.

Nick shrugged.

"Come on," she said, throwing her smoke on the ground and grabbing his hand to drag him towards the food cart across the street. She ordered them falafels and before Nick could pull out his wallet and pay for their food, Amanda had thrown down a ten-dollar bill.

"Thanks," Nick said as they sat down on the sidewalk, "you didn't have to pay for me. I was going to—"

Amanda waved her hand to cut him off. "Don't worry about it. You'll make it up to me later."

"Later?"

"Yeah, just come with me," she took a bite of her falafel, turned her head towards him, and arched an eyebrow. "You said you needed some air. I know the perfect place."

* * *

 **4 hours later**

The buzz of her phone disturbed Olivia's peaceful slumber. She rolled on her side to pick up the phone and press it into her ear.

"Detective Benson."

It was her partner's voice on the other line. Elliot also didn't sound appreciative of the 5AM wake-up call, telling them they had to go to Tribeca to investigate an underage drinking party. What was initially a call about a noise disturbance developed into a potential rape case when police showed up and found a dozen teenagers, who were either naked or in their underwear.

Assuring Elliot she'd meet him at the Tribeca apartment as soon as possible, Olivia rolled out of bed, but a pair of strong arms latching around her waist thwarted her attempt.

"I'm sorry, Bri," she said, looking over her shoulder to see Brian Cassidy's half-asleep form on her bed. "Duty calls."

"Ah, what is it this time?" He asked groggily. "Exhibitionist in Central Park? Assault in a club? Another campus rape in Hudson U?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, underage party in Tribeca with at least twelve possible victims."

"Shit," he mumbled in his sleep-induced daze. "Good luck with their mommies and daddies."

Sighing deeply, Olivia knew exactly what he meant by that. Generalizations were, more often than not, prejudicial; but if there was anything she and Brian learned after over a decade of working as a cop – it's that affluent parents from prominent families were often the challenging to work with. They either felt entitled to run the investigation or they tried to put an end to it for fear of ruining their families' reputations. Even at the expense of the victim.

The heels on her boots clicked audibly against the marble floors of the lobby. Her partner turned around to greet her 'good morning' while he rubbed his right eye. As they took the elevator to the loft, Elliot grumbled about having been woken up after only three hours of sleep, since Eli was up crying most of the night. When he caught her yawning, he asked if, she too, had a sleepless night. Olivia thought quickly and made up a lie about some DD5s she had to rewrite. He appeared unconvinced but let it go due to lack of sleep, which she was thankful for because the last thing she needed was for her partner to find out that she had taken advantage of her daughter's sleepover at Claire's house to invite Brian over to her apartment.

Olivia and Brian were still trying to figure out the nature of their relationship. After the Bart Ganzell and Delia Wilson war last spring and the scandal that rocked the boat for Captain Cragen, Olivia and Brian rekindled an old flame and found a sense of normalcy with each other. What began as a casual hook up turned somewhat serious as they both realized they were developing feelings. She started to think that maybe their feelings from thirteen years ago had never really gone away. Still, she felt it was too soon to tell anyone.

If Elliot were to find out, he would never let her live it down. He always disapproved of the men she dated. In fact, he gave her such a hard time about dating David Haden; and she was still trying to earn his trust back after that whole debacle. She didn't want to make it worse by revealing that she was sporadically sleeping with Brian. Then there was her daughter. Like her partner, Amanda wasn't a fan of David either. A part of her felt that Amanda would share the same opinion about Brian, so Olivia planned to wait until she was absolutely sure their relationship was going somewhere before she'd tell her daughter about them. She just needed to talk to Brian first.

The loft was in utter chaos when they arrived. Bottles and broken glass were strewn everywhere. Furniture was on its side. Streaks and handprints of neon paint smeared against formerly clean, white walls.

They spoke to the unis on the scene, who reported what they saw when they responded to the call. Most kids had already left by the time they arrived, but when they walked in they found a dozen wasted kids in their underwear. Pictures from cell phones and interviews with the building's staff seemed to indicate an attendance of over two-hundred kids. Besides the alcohol, the unis found marijuana, cocaine, and ecstasy in the premises.

Seven of the twelve teenagers were downstairs getting their work-ups done by the paramedics while Munch and Fin questioned them. Three teenagers were found passed out on the living room floor and were now being carried out by paramedics.

"There are two more upstairs in one of the bedrooms," explained the officer. "Male and female; they were found naked."

Olivia exchanged a look with her partner just as she felt that knot in her stomach tighten. "We need to get them to a hospital, get a tox screen and a rape kit."

"They're really out of it right now. Paramedics are up there with them, but they'll take them to Presbyterian as soon as possible."

The front door swung open and Olivia and Elliot stood in shock as ADA Rafael Barba stormed inside.

* * *

 **4 hours earlier**

Sitting on the sidewalk chowing down on some Mediterranean street meat was not how he imagined his night panning out. Nick also didn't expect to meet Mandy – this blonde stranger who still avoided answering his questions about how she ended up at his party. Instead, she steered their conversation over to food stands and food trucks. They listed down their favorites, finding some common ground near City Hall and the Supreme Court.

"Either one of your parents lawyers?" Nick asked.

"Nah," she said, shaking her head. "My mom's a detective."

"Really?" His eyes widened. "That's pretty badass."

Amanda laughed, "she's been called that several times."

After wolfing down their falafels and exchanging hilarious stories of bizarre encounters in the subway, Amanda took Nick's hand and pulled him up from the sidewalk. They walked eastward down Warren Street and cut through the City Hall Park Path. Then Amanda took him north as hey talked for over an hour about everything from music to Netflix originals to nostalgic pop culture references. In the span of time they were talking, Nick felt like he had known her forever without actually knowing anything about her.

Sure, he knew her name was Mandy; but he didn't know where she was from or why she had just decided to take him on this excursion across the city. All Nick knew was that he could laugh and be himself around her. There was something about her that made him breathe easy.

He spotted the Citi bikes parked along the street.

"How far is this place you're taking me to?"

"Just a hundred or so miles up north," she teased, casting him a wicked grin, "why?"

Nick lowered his head and smiled, hoping the warmth he felt in his cheeks wasn't showing through his skin. "I have an idea." He walked over to the Citi bikes and swiped his credit card twice to unlock two bikes.

As they rode the blue bikes up Bowery and then Third Avenue, Nick and Amanda couldn't stop laughing and enjoying their careless evening. The autumn breeze brushed against their skin. The wind streamed through Amanda's golden hair, and Nick was spellbound by her beauty. And it wasn't just her pretty face, her bright blue eyes, or her smile that could render him speechless; there was just something about her spirit that captivated him. He wanted to know more.

But as the clocks turned and time advanced, the greater her mystery became. And he wanted to unearth that mystery and peel off the layers.

Nick pedaled faster as his heart raced, shooting past Amanda. They weren't doing anything wrong. She was just a stranger he met at a party. It wasn't like he was cheating on Maria. They were just eating street food, riding bikes, sharing stories, and having a laugh. It was purely innocent. But the more he tried to rationalize his actions and the more he tried to convince himself that what he was doing was normal, the stronger he felt the guilt rising in his chest. The faster he pedaled, the faster he could physically distance himself from her, and the faster he could separate himself from the idea that this was a girl worth pursuing.

Amanda was yelling something at him from behind, and he looked over his shoulder to see her eyes widen and her mouth open.

"Watch out!" He heard two separate voices. Nick turned back forward to see a man walking his dog, and he was headed straight for their direction. He quickly swerved and nearly fell over but managed to brake with his feet just in time. He panted as the man marched away, berating him for not watching where he was going. Amanda rode up next to him and braked.

"I tried to warn you," she said between breaths. "But you were in the zone."

"Huh? Sorry." Nick straightened the bike and got back on to join Amanda, this time at a more relaxed pace. She continued to talk, mostly about how much she dreaded this homecoming dance her school was hosting in November. She glanced at him sideways and shook her head. "You probably don't give a shit about what I'm saying."

"No, I do…" He smiled reassuringly. "You're entertaining when you rant."

She biked right up next to him to nudge him on the shoulder. "You deserved that, Nick." Biting her lip, Amanda pedaled faster to hide the blush in her cheeks.

When they finally made it to their destination, Amanda led Nick down an alleyway. He looked around to make sure there was no one following them. She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Relax. We're safe."

He arched a brow, but resisted arguing with her and instead followed her up the fire escape. It was an eight-story brick building that housed a bodega and a Chinese restaurant on the first floor, and some apartments and offices in the upper floors.

Once they reached the rooftop, Nick looked around at the view of the city. They weren't too high up, so it wasn't spectacular or tourist-worthy, but he could see the Chrysler and the Empire State buildings in the distance, and the top of the Freedom Tower when he looked south. The sound of cars was still heard from the street below, but there was a peacefulness about this place. Amanda pulled out two lawn chairs from a shed and laid them out near the edge of the rooftop.

"How'd you even find this place?"

Amanda flipped open her pack of smokes. She placed a cigarette between her lips but didn't light it. "I used to live downstairs when I was a kid. I barely remember anything from that time – don't even remember the name of my foster parents."

Nick furrowed his brows and tried to read her deadpan expression.

"I just remember going up here with my foster mom to hang up the laundry on the clothesline. Sometimes, we'd go up here so she could escape her husband… at least for an hour or two." She flicked the lighter and pressed the flame to the end of the cigarette hanging off her lips. "Who knows what they're doing now… if they're even still married… if he hasn't landed himself in prison yet."

"Did he ever hurt you?"

Amanda's lips turned up into a small smile and she shook her head. "No, he was actually great with kids, believe it or not," she said nonchalantly as if being a decent dad could make up for hitting a woman. "He couldn't find work though, so that's why social services took me away." She leaned back on the chair and took a long drag of her cigarette.

"You said this was the perfect place," Nick started, "why?"

"I don't know… I guess I just feel safe here."

* * *

 **4 hours later**

Rafael came to a standstill once he got a full view of the loft. It was worse than he imagined, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he wouldn't have to be here to witness his ex-wife's reaction.

Thankfully, the phone call that would have woken him up that morning had only interrupted his sleepless coffee-making ritual. He had lain in bed for hours, alternately thinking about his open cases and what it would be like living with his teenage son. He had gone from practicing closing arguments in his head to visualizing himself and his son passing each other in the apartment like ships in the night.

The 4AM phone call was from his ex-wife, who relayed the information from the NYPD, who informed her there was an unsupervised party at her house where children as young as 15 were drinking and using drugs. She needed to come down to the station to give her statement. But Isabella was all the way up in Long Island and she had promised brunch with her girl friends so in no uncertain terms was she eschewing brunch to speak with the police. She ordered Rafael to handle it – after all, he worked for the city so she expected him to use his 'influence' to ensure her name and her son's were cleared from the investigation.

"Counselor," Olivia greeted, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"You're a little early, Barba. No one's been charged with anything yet," Elliot chuckled darkly.

"I'm here on behalf of the owner of the house." Rafael swallowed hard as he took in the sight around him. He took a step towards the detectives and nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Isabella Amaro is my ex-wife."

Elliot exchanged a look with Olivia before they turned back to him.

"She's in the Hamptons and she says she can't make it back until later this afternoon."

"You know anything about this party?" Elliot immediately went into interrogation mode.

"No," Rafael replied, shaking his head. "Had I known, it would never have happened."

"Are you sure you're not just saying that to protect your kid?" Elliot asked, flipping open his notebook to read the notes he acquired from the officers. "Nicholas Amaro? Your son doesn't use your last name?"

"El," Liv warned.

Rafael sighed, "it's complicated."

Elliot shrugged and continued to read off his notes. "Witnesses told the officers that he threw the party. Do you know if the drugs and alcohol were also supplied by your son?"

"El," Olivia gave her partner a harsh look before she looked sympathetically at Rafael.

"No, it's fine, detective," Barba said, raising his hand. "I understand this is protocol; but no, I was not aware of the party and I don't expect any special treatment because he is my son. Where is he? Have you questioned him?"

Elliot flipped the notebook closed and raised his eyebrows. "We actually don't know where he is. Witness accounts say the last time they saw him was around midnight."

"Let me give him a call," Rafael said, pulling his phone out of his coat. "Maybe I can reach him."

The phone rang but there was no answer. A few seconds later, a paramedic emerged from the hallway and stood at the top of the stairs. "There's a phone ringing in one of the bedrooms. I didn't touch it," he said, raising his palms up.

Elliot, Olivia and Rafael bound up the stairs into Nick's bedroom where two paramedics were giving fluids to two teenaged kids. The teenagers were hunched over and had blankets draped around their bodies. There were bottles littering the floor amidst all the boxes, which reminded Rafael of the sobering reality that his kid – the one who was responsible for this mess – was moving in with him..

With a gloved hand, Olivia crouched down by the side table and picked up the phone that flashed Rafael's number as the last missed call.

* * *

They talked on the rooftop for hours and the conversation probably wouldn't have ended if it hadn't been for the phone call from Wes. "Get your ass over here," he summoned her over the phone, "you swore you'd meet us at Claire's apartment."

Nick and Amanda rode the Citi bikes back to Tribeca and parked it at the nearest station. It was a strange turn of events, especially for Nick, but he welcomed the change. For the last few years, he felt so stuck in the routine of his life. Everything was so planned out from academics to extracurricular activities to what university he was going to. Harvard, obviously. His mom wouldn't have it any other way. Even his relationship seemed like an arranged marriage; his mom represented Maria's dad's company in a case two years ago. They celebrated the win (and the termination of thousands of unionized workers) over dinner, while Mr. and Mrs. Grazie encouraged Nick to date their only daughter. They had paid Isabella's legal fees, but apparently they wanted to throw in a dowry with it.

This spontaneous night with Amanda was like a breath of fresh air. Casting a sideways glance at the blonde, Nick just wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her, and feel as carefree and unbothered as he did that night. But deep in his gut, he knew it was wrong. He had a girlfriend passed out in his bed and a party to clean up when he returned home.

Nick walked with Amanda to the nearest subway. She took one step down the green stairs and looked over her shoulder. "I'll see you soon," she said, even though neither one of them had remembered to exchange numbers. Bounding down the stairs, she disappeared from his sight. He sighed as he felt a chill rush up his spine; turning around, Nick headed for home.

Making a sharp right around the corner, he felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned on his heel, Nick felt a pair of soft lips press up against his. Although his eyes were closed, he inhaled the scent of honeysuckle and he knew it was Mandy.

When he opened his eyes, she had already whirled around, sprinting back towards the subway steps.

A wide grin spread across his face as he walked up his block. With his hands shoved into his pockets for warmth, he blew a cold breath into the air and watched the fog rise above his head. In the distance, he saw flashing red and blue lights and as he approached, the number of squad cars and ambulances seemed to multiply.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as his legs carried him faster towards his building.

As soon as he got to the door, the concierge pointed him out to one of the officers. Heads turned and there was chatter exchanged through the radios. Two officers approached him before he could even get halfway through the lobby. After being told that detectives were upstairs to ask him questions, Nick swallowed hard and followed as two officers escorted him upstairs. They didn't cuff him, but he still felt restrained and he didn't like feeling like he had lost control. He lowered his head as the officers opened the door to the loft; part of him just didn't want to see the damage caused.

Slowly, he lifted his head and it wasn't the paint on the walls or the broken glass on the floor that had captured his attention first. It was the figure standing in the middle of the room.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

* * *

 _ **AN:** What did you think? If you're here for Barson, don't worry we'll get there eventually. Until then, expect there to be some interesting encounters between Barba, Cassidy, and even Elliot in the near future. Please share your thoughts and reviews :)_


	4. Do I Wanna Know?

_**AN** : Thank you for the reviews for chapter three. I really love hearing people's thoughts and reactions so thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think, even if it's just to tell me to update sooner. :) I'm sorry for the long wait. I've been on vacation and I thought that meant more time to write, but it actually means I have less down time because there's so much more out-of-town trips and socializing happening. I'm pretty introverted so I'm not used to spending all this time with large groups of people, and it can be REALLY exhausting. That, and a lot of the places I've traveled have had spotty internet which discouraged me from bringing my laptop along on my trips. So anyway, enough about my life... here's chapter four of Save Room. _

_Read, enjoy, and review!_

* * *

 **Save Room**

 **4\. Do I Wanna Know?**

* * *

" _Dad? What are you doing here?"_

Rafael marched across the room to face his son, who stared back and stood unmoved. Nick's mouth hung open as the neurons started firing and the image of his trashed house started to register in his brain.

"I got a call from your mother and the police at five in the morning. Where the hell have you been?" Rafael raised his voice. The two detectives hung back to watch the scene unfold, and Olivia noticed that the normally confident ADA almost seemed uncomfortable taking on the role of a distressed and angry parent.

"Out," Nick replied indifferently. "On a walk."

"You throw a party without your mother's permission, invite over a hundred kids, serve them alcohol, and then just leave them to do this?" Rafael cried out incredulously, waving his arms around to point out the damage in the condo. "Where is your sense of responsibility? Or did you lose it while you were cruising the streets at this god awful hour?"

Nick's eyes widened and he scoffed. "You're going to parent me now?"

"Clearly someone has to," Rafael bit back. "Now tell me where you were when you were supposed to prevent this from happening."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"But you'll have to talk to us," said the male detective, who flashed the badge attached to his belt loop. "Detective Stabler and this is my partner, Detective Benson."

"What?" Nick questioned, his brows furrowing at the intrusion of detectives in his home. It all seemed quite unnecessary. "Okay, so the party got a little out of hand. Why do the cops have to be involved?"

"Nick," his father began to explain, "they found drugs and –"

"- Counselor," Elliot interrupted, "if you don't mind, we'd like to speak to your son at the precinct."

"Not without his lawyer," Rafael replied, narrowing his eyes at the detective.

"I don't need a lawyer. I didn't do anything wrong," Nick said defensively. "Look, if you found drugs… they weren't mine. I didn't even know half the people who came here so it probably came from one of them."

"You don't have a list of guests?" Olivia asked the teenager. The tone of her voice was much more sensitive than her partner's.

"No. I thought only ten of my friends from school would show up but my girlfriend told them to invite more people; and, you know, word travels fast."

"What's your girlfriend's name?" Olivia asked, flipping open her notebook.

"Maria Grazie," Nick answered. His eyes darted towards the stairs and he began to stalk towards it when Rafael seized his shoulders and stopped him. "Is she still here?"

"Most of your guests left before the police arrived," Olivia explained. "We may need you to contact Maria and ask her to meet us at the precinct."

"We'll also need you to identify people from the cell phone cameras we found in the area," Elliot added, his eyes narrowing to study the teenager. "In the meantime, CSU will work on this place. So Nick, you'll have to come with us to the station."

"No, no, no," Rafael chuckled darkly, stepping in front of Elliot. "You will not be taking my son on the back of a squad car without any charges. I will drive him myself."

"Look, we don't have to make this difficult." Elliot smiled sardonically down at the shorter man. "Just let us –"

"Detective, don't think for a second that I am unfamiliar with your manner of manipulation and coercion. I am not allowing you to speak to my son without his lawyer present."

"Counselor, with all due respect," Elliot crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin. "ADAs usually represent the victims in our cases. Not the suspect."

"Elliot," Olivia called out, staring back at him with wide eyes.

The accusation didn't seem to rattle the teenager whose ears only focused on one word. "Victims?" Nick asked, turning to Rafael. "Dad, what is he talking about?"

Before the ADA could answer the question, Elliot spoke up. "Unis found five victims of sexual assault when they were called in on a disturbance."

"Fuck," Nick heaved; his body doubled over as his palms rested on his thighs. He lifted his head up to meet the detectives' eyes. "Seriously?"

"You're just gonna let your kid use that kind of language?" Elliot inquired, turning towards Rafael, with a smirk on his face.

"Elliot, stop," Olivia said firmly, raising her hand and taking a step forward to block the display of arrogance between her partner and the ADA. "Let's just go back to the precinct… Counselor, we'll meet you there."

Olivia took her partner by the elbow and ushered him out of the loft. The father and son stayed behind in moratorium, unable to speak or even look in each other's direction. Nick knew he had screwed up by leaving the party and letting shit hit the fan. His dad was right, he should have been more responsible and this would never have happened. He wasn't the drug peddler that Detective Stabler suspected he was, but the gnawing guilt in his gut still made him feel like an accessory to the assaults.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and he looked behind him to see his dad with a sympathetic look. "Come on, son, let's sort this mess out."

* * *

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the rumble beneath her feet and the feel of cool metal on her fingertips. Her upper body jerked forward as the train braked upon arrival. She hung onto the metal bar with one arm and leaned her head against it as fatigue washed over her. Noticing the muscles in her legs were sore, Amanda's lips curled into a smile at the memory of riding bikes up the streets of New York. A warm flush spread across her cheeks, and she opened her eyes to see a homeless man staring at her with a toothless grin on his face.

So lost in reliving the night, Amanda forgot her stop in Hell's Kitchen and ended up further uptown close to her apartment. She got off the subway and sent a text to Claire. _[Missed the stop. Going to crash at home instead. Donuts and coffee in the morning?]_

Amanda walked the two blocks from the station to her building. Sensing a vibration in her pocket, she pulled out her phone and saw the message from Claire. _[Wes wants to facetime when you get home. We want to hear about this guy you met at the party.]_

 _[There is no guy.]_

 _[I saw you leave with him. You're not as stealthy as you think you are.]_

 _[Who said I was with him?]_

 _[Claire said he was hot. Do you have pics?]_ Wes joined in to add to the group message. Amanda turned to her building and walked through the lobby towards the elevator.

 _[No. And you still haven't answered my question about the donuts.]_

 _[Did he kiss you good night?]_ Claire teased, ignoring her question completely.

Amanda walked down the hallway to their apartment door. _[Nope. I kissed him.]_

 _[Look at you! Is he any good?]_

Inserting the key into the lock, Amanda turned the knob and opened the door. The moment she stepped inside, she felt something was off. She turned to her right and saw a shadowy figure emerge out of the kitchen. She grabbed a hold of a nearby umbrella and started swinging it in the darkness.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" The gruff voice called out. "Amanda, hold up!"

"How do you know my name?" She yelled back, still swinging the umbrella. She finally made contact with the man's shin and she heard him yelp in pain. "Who are you?"

The light switched on and Amanda faced a middle-aged man who looked somewhat familiar. "I'm Brian Cassidy… " he trailed off, bending over to rub his shin. "I used to work with your mom."

"You're that guy? The one who got shot a few months ago… the one working UC as a pimp?"

"I wasn't the pimp. I was working for him…" he retorted, shaking his head. "I mean, I was working security for him."

"Uh-huh… What are you doing in my house?"

"I, uh… your mom let me in?"

"Where is she?" Amanda asked and without waiting for an answer, she ignored him and walked down the hall towards the bedrooms. "Mom! Mooom! There's a strange man in our living room!"

"She's not here," Brian groaned as he followed her. Amanda turned around to see him hobbling towards her. "Work called."

She watched him try to support his weight on the back of the couch as he bent down to inspect the purple bruise forming on his leg. Amanda knew she should've apologized, but she honestly thought Brian was an intruder. "Wait…" she trailed off as the realization began to hit her, "you're the guy she's been seeing these last few weeks?"

"How do you know about that?" He replied, eyes wide and full of curiosity.

"My mom's Olivia Benson; you learn some things," she shrugged. "That, and I'm not stupid. She's been acting different lately – all these little smiles when she's reading messages on her phone. And she works really late sometimes even when I know, for a fact, that Elliot is at home because Lizzie is always railing about her dad on Facebook."

"Liv did say you were pretty smart for your age." He tried to extend an olive branch out to the girl. Maybe it was to make peace with hid girlfriend's kid, or maybe it was to prevent further umbrella attacks in the foreseeable future. "So what are you doing here anyway? I thought you were supposed to be over at your friend's house."

"I missed my bed." It wasn't wholly untruthful. She walked towards her room but stopped and turned around to study him with narrowed eyes. He seemed like the complete opposite of her mom's last boyfriend, David Haden. She wondered what the rationale was for getting in bed with this roughneck-looking guy when her mom had her pick of handsome, successful men. Her mom didn't seem to think that was the case, but Amanda was rather perceptive of the stares her mother elicited. Brian did say they used to work together so maybe there was some history there. Amanda made a mental note to interrogate her mom the moment she returned home from work.

"Hey, Amanda, can we keep this meeting between us?" He sighed and lowered his head. "Liv doesn't really want you to know about me until things get serious."

So much for that interrogation.

"So you're not serious about her?" Amanda teased.

"No! I mean, I like your mom a lot… we got history, you know?" He revealed. She smiled, feeling pleased with herself. "Anyway, she just doesn't want you to get hurt in case this _thing_ isn't going anywhere."

"Me? Hurt?" She asked, furrowing her brows in confusion. "Doubt it."

"Hey, I didn't make up the rules. She did."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes. "I'm going to bed."

Brian's mouth twisted into a scowl, feeling like he had botched it with his girlfriend and her kid. He watched Amanda's form disappear before the door slammed shut. "Night," he whispered to no one in particular.

He walked back towards the kitchen to grab some ice for his shin. Hearing the creak of the door, he turned around to see Amanda's head peeking out of the doorway. "Hey, Brian, if you break her heart, I'm going to aim for your balls and shoot you with a squirrel gun," she threatened in a completely serious and deadpan tone. She raked her eyes over him like she was sizing him up. A smirk fell upon her face and her eyes glistened. "It wouldn't be the first time."

* * *

Rafael and Nick were seated in the interview room across the two detectives. He supervised as his son was asked to identify people in pictures retrieved from the cell phones they found at the crime scene. Nick honestly said he didn't recognize most of the people in the shots. After a frustrating couple of hours, the detectives led the father and son to the interview room where Detective Stabler was under the impression that he would lead the questioning. But Rafael called the shots and told Nick he didn't have to answer some of the irrelevant and ensnaring questions posed by the detective.

"What time did you leave the party?"

"1AM."

"Are you sure about that?" Elliot arched an eyebrow as he comfortably leaned back on the chair.

"Yes, I'm sure," he replied, casting a distrustful look at the detective. "I remember checking my watch when I was heading out the door. It's a habit."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Like I said earlier, I just wanted some fresh air. The party wasn't fun for me; I was more stressed out trying to make sure no one was breaking anything."

"You did a great job, kid," Elliot said sarcastically, smirking at his own joke.

His partner shot him a look before she turned to Nick. "Is there anyone who can corroborate your story?"

"Nick, tell the truth." Rafael looked from his son's eyes to Olivia's. She nodded her head as if she were assuring him that he was doing a fine job both as Nick's lawyer and, more importantly, his parent.

"Whatever I say here… my girlfriend won't find out about it, right?" Nick asked expectantly, nervously tracing his thumb and index finger over his lips.

Elliot piped up. "Not unless this thing goes to trial –"

"—And it won't." Rafael glared at Elliot, daring him to continue with the scare tactics. He didn't know what the detective's problem was or why he felt the need to intimidate a 16-year-old kid. Was it because Nick was Rafael's son? From the beginning, he knew he got off on the wrong foot with Elliot, but he didn't think the man would act so unprofessionally for seemingly no apparent reason. The ADA lowered his head and exchanged a look with his son. "Go ahead, Nick."

"There was this girl from the party. She told me she didn't go to St. Francis and that a friend of hers had found out about the party. We ended up eating falafels and renting Citi bikes to ride up to midtown." Nick nervously chewed on his lip as he debated whether or not to be entirely truthful. He figured that the police would want the full timeline, and his dad did say that leaving out details could jeopardize the case and make him look like he had something to hide. "She took me up to the rooftop of this building on East 51st Street, and we hung out there until 4 or 4:30 when her friend called. Then we headed back and parted ways at the station."

"You can check the bill on his credit card for the bike rental. The time they had the bikes would reflect the charge," Rafael added, watching as the smirk faded from Elliot's face.

"That's great, Nick." Olivia smiled at the teenager and thanked him for cooperating. "We'll see if we can track down this girl and see if your story checks out."

"This girl… did she have a name?" Elliot asked.

"Mandy."

Rafael couldn't help but notice the strange look exchanged by the pair of detectives. Elliot leaned across the table and studied him carefully. "Can you describe her?"

"Blonde hair, blue eyes, average height. She had a bit of a Southern accent."

Olivia gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Elliot turned to her and leaned close to her ear. Rafael could barely make out what he said but it sounded like 'it's not her'.

"Will you excuse us?" Olivia pushed herself off the desk and walked out of the room; her partner not far behind.

When the door closed, Nick turned to Rafael and tilted his head in confusion. "Dad, what's going on?"

"I don't know," Rafael replied, shaking his head. He got up and paced across the room, looking out the window to see Olivia running her hands through her hair as her partner tried to reassure her. She was hearing none of it though because she pulled out her phone and started dialing, which was thwarted immediately by Elliot.

Too impatient to sit back and watch without an explanation, Rafael told Nick to stay inside the room. He stormed out to hear Elliot tell Olivia that she was flying off the handle without knowing for sure what was going on.

"She is in so much trouble."

"Hey, Liv, calm down. She's just a kid," Elliot tried to reason with her. "They do this sort of thing all the time."

"Really? You're going to tell me to calm down?" She shot back, getting close to his face. "If this were Kathleen or Lizzie, you would've reached over that table and strangled the boy."

"Oh, believe me, I wanted to."

Rafael cleared his throat and both detectives turned their heads to see the fire burning in the ADA's eyes. "I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear two NYPD detectives talking about strangling my son." He raised his chin defiantly and planted his hands on his hips. "Will someone tell me what is happening?"

"Your son was with my daughter all night," Liv said accusingly, her eyes wide in shock before she exhaled.

"Liv, we don't know if it's Amanda. There are a million blonde-haired, blue-eyed teenage girls in the city. It could've been anyone," Elliot pointed out.

"I hate to say it, but Detective Stabler is right. The girl may not even be your daughter," Rafael stated.

"Right," Olivia shook her head and tried to put her mind at rest. "Amanda wouldn't sneak off to a party like this. She's fifteen."

"Exactly. She's fifteen so we can't be certain," Rafael countered. "Teenagers are unpredictable."

"Look, I know my daughter," Olivia fired back at the ADA who looked caught off guard that the usually cordial detective was being combative. "Maybe your son is unpredictable, but I know Amanda. She wouldn't –"

"Liv." Elliot warned, blocking her path towards the ADA. "Look, there's only one way to find out. We ask him if he recognizes her."

Olivia nodded, pulling out her phone and leading the way back into the interview room. Once they were all seated, Rafael turned to his son. "Would you be able to identify the girl if Detective Benson showed you a picture?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Nick shrugged. "But I don't understand. I've spent the last two hours looking at pictures from the party and I didn't see her in any of them."

Olivia swiped through her phone and found a picture she took of Amanda a few days back. Her hair was pulled to the side and she had a close-mouthed smile that showed off the one dimple on her right cheek. She turned the phone around and showed the screen to Nick. "What about her? Do you know her?"

Nick swallowed hard. "Yeah, that's her. That's Mandy."

* * *

As soon as she stepped out of the room, Olivia made a beeline towards the cribs to call her daughter. She didn't care if she was waking up her 15-year-old; she was livid. The heels of her boots clicked against the concrete as she paced back and forth across the enclosed space. After six rings, Amanda finally picked up.

"Mom? What time is it?"

"Where have you been?" Olivia wasted no time getting down to the truth.

"Uh… At Claire's," said the groggy voice on the other line.

"Don't lie to me, Amanda. I know you were at a party in Tribeca."

"Oh my god, mom, did you have me followed?"

"No, of course not," Olivia replied defensively. She spent years trying to reconstruct a life for Amanda and reestablish the concept of family and love; she would never betray her daughter's trust like that. It hurt to be accused of that sort of behavior. "I received a call about a party in Tribeca. Not only did I find out you were at a party where they were serving alcohol and kids were doing drugs, but also that you spent four hours traipsing around the city with some stranger."

"Wait… What?" Amanda's voice sounded panicked at the other end. "That's not what happened. I was at Claire's the whole night."

"I can't believe you're still lying to me," Olivia sighed, placing her palm over her forehead. She leaned against the lockers and exhaled exasperatedly. "What were you doing walking around the city with a boy who thinks your name is Mandy?"

"Mom, I can explain…"

"You haven't used that nickname since you were in Georgia," Olivia said quietly. Memories of her daughter's rough childhood came rushing back, and she felt sick to her stomach. After speaking with a series of therapists, she was aware that her daughter had self-destructive tendencies that were masked by a sense of reckless abandon. Amanda would often distract herself with excitement and heady adventures just so she wouldn't have to deal with her past. Introducing herself by the nickname she had buried so long ago proved that avoiding her problems was not helping her heal.

"I'm sorry."

Olivia sighed. "Get dressed. I'm coming to pick you up at Claire's—"

"I'm actually home," she admitted.

"So you lied about that too?" Olivia snarled. "You're coming with me to the station to give your statement."

"Wh- Why?"

"Because you went to a party with drugs and alcohol and you might have seen something that could help our case."

"They called your unit?" Amanda's voice fell. She knew what that meant and it made her feel unwell when she realized at least one of those kids at the party had been assaulted.

There was a knock on the door. It was Fin. "Liv, hey… We got some news on the vics."

"Hold on," Liv said, holding up a finger. "Be ready in ten minutes, Amanda." Olivia hung up the phone and shook her head in disapproval.

"Heard about your kid, she all right?"

"Yeah, she's at home. I'm swinging by to pick her up so she can give her statement and so I can keep an eye on her."

"That might have to wait," Fin began, raising a folder. "Three of the five vics we found naked in the living room had no signs of entry. In fact, they had passed out before anything happened. But the two teens in the bedroom – well, the girl is refusing to do the rape kit. Nurses say they saw bruising on her hips and thighs, and she's coming down from something and it ain't alcohol."

"What are you saying?"

"They can't say for sure without a tox screen, but the nurses say it looks like someone may have slipped her a roofie," Fin explained. "Captain thinks you have the best shot at convincing her to get the rape kit done."

"She must be so terrified," Liv said, pressing her lips into a slight frown. "I'll talk to her. But can you do me a favor? Can you pick up Amanda at the apartment and take her here."

"Yeah, of course."

"Thanks, Fin." She smiled softly at the detective and began to head out of the room. He handed her the folder and she flipped open to the first page. She read the title on the initial medical report and her eyes scanned down to focus on the name. "Maria Grazie?"

"Yeah, she's the girl," Fin said, cocking his head to the side to study Olivia's shocked and confused expression. "Why? You got something?"

"She's Nick Amaro's girlfriend."


	5. Dazed And Confused

_**AN** : Another long wait between chapters and for that I sincerely apologize and present you with a chapter that is +1000 words longer than my average chapter (YAY!). I think updates will be more frequent from now on; I reckon once a week until my schedule changes in September. Anyway, I want to thank everyone who took the time to review chapter four. You guys are awesome and your reviews are like manna - they sustain me and keep me motivated so keep 'em coming! _

_Read, enjoy, and review_

* * *

 **Save Room**

 **5\. Dazed And Confused**

* * *

The detectives didn't burn any daylight once they learned about their rape victim. Elliot and Olivia got in the squad car and drove to Presbyterian where they split up, with Olivia speaking with Maria Grazie, and Elliot and dealing with their suspect. His name was Eric Price, a 17-year-old junior at Saint Francis and a midfielder for the school's soccer team. He was still at a tender age, but if the charges stuck he wouldn't be tried as a juvenile delinquent and that could mean several years behind bars.

Based on the information they gathered so far, the detectives learned that the people involved – Maria, Eric, and Nick – were all part of a tight-knit group of the private school's elite. Popular kids throwing parties with drugs and alcohol was a trope for good reason - because it happened all the time. The call made to the loft was this particular group's first encounter with the police, and what started out as a noise complaint unwittingly turned into possible sexual assault charges. Whatever the case, it would be an eye-opening experience for this group of teenagers.

Olivia knocked on the door and slowly entered the private hospital room. Inside, a nurse checked her patient's vitals and made sure the IV was properly hooked so she could get rehydrated. The girl, dressed in a light blue hospital gown, kept her eyes focused on the scene of falling leaves just outside her window. Her long brown hair was gathered away from her face with a headband. Clear and fresh-faced, her olive skin gave an appearance of youth and refinement. No one would suspect she was passed out and assaulted some time within the last seven hours.

The girl didn't even acknowledge Olivia's encroachment of her space as she kept staring outside. Olivia wondered what was going through the poor girl's head; she was curious to know if the girl remembered any of it happening, perhaps something that led to her attack. But her face was stoic and difficult to read. Her body language, jaw clenched and arms laid out on her lap with her fingers intertwined, gave the impression that whatever she was feeling she wanted to keep imprisoned inside her. The nurse rounded the bed and gave her a small smile before she headed out to the hallway to attend to her next patient.

"Hi, Maria, my name is Detective Olivia Benson and I'm from Special Victims. I'm here to ask you questions about last night."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "What about it? I don't remember a thing."

Olivia moved over to the side of her bed and blocked her view of the window so she would look at her. She met the young girl's green eyes, and that was when she noticed the telltale signs of someone who had just shed tears. "Do you remember how you ended up in the bedroom upstairs?"

Maria pouted her lips and shook her head.

"Do you remember anything about the party?"

She opened her palms out on her lap and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I guess."

"Can you tell me what you do remember?" Olivia tried again, pressing her on for information without overwhelming her. The girl just went through a trauma so she understood the caginess and reluctance. It was a defense mechanism, one she was acquainted with in her experience in law enforcement and in her own personal life. "Let's start with the time you arrived at the loft."

"Um, I guess it was around seven," she said. "I went over early to have dinner with my boyfriend –"

"—Nick Amaro?"

"Yeah," she replied, furrowing her brows before continuing her account of events. "We ordered in and had some Thai food. Then we started setting up for the party… he was putting some songs into his iPod when I told him there was no need because I had hired a DJ. Then he asked me why a DJ was necessary for a party of ten people, so _then_ I told him that I got all our friends to invite their friends... And I guess, it kind of took off from there."

"So Nick didn't know about the size of the party?"

"Not until like half an hour before the first guests showed up," Maria said. "He was so cranky the whole night, wouldn't even talk to me except to tell me I was getting sloppy. Easy for him to say; he never even touched a drink."

"Were you with him for most of the night?" Olivia asked, writing down what Maria was saying in her black notebook. "From what you remember?"

"No, not really…" she trailed off, looking straight ahead to avoid the detective's gaze. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her shoulders, appearing smaller than she already did. "I was mostly with my girlfriends, dancing and taking shots of vodka. And – uh… yeah, that's it."

Olivia heard the hesitation in Maria's voice and observed her chew on her lip. It was clear that the teenager was withholding information that could be pertinent to their investigation.

"Is there something you're not telling me, Maria? Something that you're afraid other people will find out about?"

She quickly shook her head.

"I'm here to help you," Olivia assured her, tilting her head to the side so she could meet the younger girl's fixed stare. Maria gave her a skeptical look but finally her sharp features softened, and she sighed.

"I remember being really wasted and wanting to puke, so I ran to the upstairs bathroom to take care of it. When I got out, Nick's friend was waiting by the door… and he gave me an aspirin and said that it would help with the headache."

"Nick's friend?"

"Eric Price."

Olivia's eyes widened. The puzzle pieces in their case were now starting to fit and the picture was making itself clear. It looked like they wouldn't need further investigation; they'd just have to wait for Maria to complete the rape kit and for CSU to show them the match in DNA. She was also quite certain that the toxicology screen would reveal that it wasn't aspirin in Maria's system but Rohypnol, as Fin suspected. Olivia didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but from the looks of it this case was only a few signatures away from being closed and filed away.

"Anyway, after that Eric helped me down the stairs then I went over to Nick. He was still pretty mad at me…" she trailed off, pausing to look up at the ceiling. Her eyes squinted like she was starting to regain some memories from the night. "I remember Nick took me upstairs to his room and he gave me some water to drink. It's so like him to do that," she said, rolling her eyes with a smile.

"Did Nick stay with you in his room?"

"I don't really remember," she said, releasing her arms and settling them back down on her lap. She lowered her head and a pink flush crept up her cheeks. "But I know we made out for a while... After that, I must have blacked out."

Olivia paused her note taking to look up and see the aloof expression on Maria's face. There was a casual, offhand way she talked about blacking out like it wasn't the first time it's happened to her; and for a 16-year-old that rang some alarm bells in Olivia's mind.

Maybe the case wasn't close to being solved after all. Nick could have easily slipped the roofie into the drink he gave his girlfriend. And with Maria's last memory being intoxicated and in bed with her boyfriend, it still made Nick a plausible suspect. He would have had enough time to assault her and still leave the party by one in the morning… with _her_ daughter. Sure, it still wouldn't explain for Eric Price being naked in bed with Maria when the unis found them early that morning; but maybe Eric was an opportunist. Perhaps he found her already undressed and vulnerable and he simply took advantage of her. Olivia knew by relaying this information to her partner and taking it back with them to the precinct, they'd be opening Pandora's box. Whatever the case, they couldn't rule out Nick as a suspect just yet.

"So you don't remember anything after that? You don't remember Nick leaving?"

"No. The next thing I remember is being woken up by a paramedic and having all these needles inserted into my body."

"So you don't recall how Eric Price got into the bed with you?"

"Wait, what?" She cried out in shock. Her lip quivered, but then another unreadable expression washed over her face. Maybe it was finally the realization of what happened to her, or it could have been confusion. Or regret. "Eric was in the bed when you found me?"

"He was also naked and we found semen all over the bed. We're still waiting on the Crime Scene Unit for the results, but it would really help, Maria, if you agree to let the nurse complete a rape kit."

"I don't see the point, detective," she said, a perfectly arched brow rising in defiance. "I don't plan on pressing any charges."

That was something Olivia feared when she heard it from Fin and when she walked into the room and felt the palpable distance and aloofness from the teenage girl. But she never pictured Maria saying those words so boldly like she was so sure of herself. Sure, she pictured something more akin to a scared, little girl afraid to relive the nightmare of her assault. Never _this_.

"I know it's is a lot to take in all at once, Maria, and you probably need some time to think –"

"—I don't need time," she argued. "I'm not accusing anyone of rape because I wasn't raped."

"You were drugged. You have bruises on your hips and thighs –"

"Stop!" Maria yelled, shoving the tray off the table. Olivia sprung back and stared back at the girl who gave her the iciest glare. "I don't care. And do not say a word of this to my boyfriend or, I swear to god, I'm going to sue you."

"Maria, please."

"Just leave me alone."

"I'm looking out for your safety and your best interest. If you don't press charges, you're going to have to see these boys walking down the halls of your school for the next two years... Is that what you want?" Olivia asked. "Please think about it," she pleaded one last time before she picked up the tray and set it down on a table in the corner of the room. She retreated towards the door and watched as Maria's head turned to face the window. A tear fell down her cheek but she swiped it away as if showing any sign of weakness was the worst thing imaginable. In some ways, Olivia could see herself in the 16-year-old.

* * *

Saturday morning sunshine beamed directly at the coffee shop across the street. They were bustling with customers, which was not uncanny especially on a weekend morning. The place was notorious for these melt-in-your-mouth chocolate croissants, which were valued at five bucks apiece. Amanda had them once and while they were probably the most delicious croissants she'd ever had and will have in her life, they were neither worth the price nor the queue.

On the patio, people enjoyed their cups of java with their morning paper. One customer had their dog tied up to the fence and a young mother was talking to the dog owner while her little girl petted the furry animal. When the dog bared its teeth, she hurriedly shied away and hid behind her mother's leg.

Everyone in the city seemed to be up and ready to take on the day refreshed and renewed, but not Amanda.

She barely had any sleep after cycling across town with a stranger she met at a party, then coming home to learn that her mom was sleeping with Brian Cassidy. After she threatened him not to hurt her mom, she closed the door to her room and got into her favorite oversized t-shirt. She Facetimed her friends to let them know she was alive and well and ready to hit the sack. But Wes and Claire didn't let her off so easy, wanting to hear about her adventurous evening of bike rides and rooftops and one memorable kiss…

Amanda slid into the passenger seat and greeted Fin with a playful punch on the arm. But there was no amusement in her eyes and there was no laugh that accompanied the gesture. Not only was she low on sleep, she was still feeling like shit over her last phone call with her mom. Olivia didn't give out much information, but Amanda could go out on a limb and say that a call to Special Victims meant that at least one person was sexually assaulted at that party. As gut wrenching as that sounded, she couldn't really say she was surprised because she had witnessed firsthand how wild some of those kids had gotten. She had seen the unlimited supply of alcohol, inhaled secondhand marijuana smoke, and had even been offered to snort some communal blow.

So she was thankful that it was Fin who ended up picking her up from the apartment. If it were her mom, Amanda knew they would have both been on edge and they would have driven each other to say things they probably wouldn't have meant had it not been for the heat of the moment. She knew she had a tendency of driving people away even when she knew, full-stop, that they were right; and in this case, her mom had every right to be angry with her for going to that party. But it was easier to think logically when she wasn't in the situation. She just needed to calm herself and rehearse her defense for when she met her mom at the station. She sighed and looked to her left to give Fin a small smile to let him know she was doing all right.

Reaching over, she turned the volume up to the radio to hear the latest Lil Wayne song. Her smile widened and her eyes lit up as she blasted the volume in the car, dancing to the catchy tune. Fin cast her a sideways glance and narrowed his eyes.

"This ain't rap or hip hop," he said, switching it to a different station.

"Nooo," Amanda whined, putting it back to the previous song. "I don't care if it's not up to your standards, Fin. It's fun and it's got a good beat."

"No one in the game raps like they used to," he sighed, shaking his head. "He's talking about goin' stupid!"

"It's a song about his homies, a song about friendship. How can you hate on that?"

"I'm not a hater but I hate the shit they call rap these days."

"Whatever, old man." Amanda smirked when she saw Fin throw her a glare. She liked this. She liked the playful ribbing between her and Fin. Of all the people in her mom's unit, Fin was probably the one she got along with the most and the one she trusted to keep a secret in case she ever got herself into trouble. She could joke around with him, catch up on TV shows together, and compare their diverse tastes in music. Unlike Elliot who had a tendency of overprotecting her and treating her like one of his children, Fin treated her like an adult. He respected her and didn't judge her, or at least did a bang-up job of not showing it. He didn't infantilize her and Amanda appreciated that more than he knew.

"Yo, Manda," he said, breaking her out of her quiet contemplation. "So what the hell happened last night?"

"Shouldn't I wait until we get to the precinct before I give my statement?"

He chuckled softly. "Don't answer my question with another question. I hate that."

"Do you, Fin?" She asked just to rile him up even more. He laughed and shook his head before he reached over to the passenger side and poked her on the rib. She jerked away at the contact and shielded herself with her arms like she was a ninja on the defensive.

"Baby girl, I know you," he said, his voice suddenly growing serious. "You're going to go in there and give them your statement but you're going to spare the details. I want to know why you left that party with that kid. Did he force you to go with him? Did he hurt you?"

"What?" Amanda jerked forward and turned her head to look at Fin. "No, he didn't hurt me… or force me to do anything. We were just headed out at the same time, I swear."

"He was headin' out of his own party?"

"Wait a sec." She held her hand up and slowly blinked her eyes. "You mean to say that was Nick's party? That was his apartment?"

"Well, his momma's but yeah, Liv didn't tell you that?"

Amanda shook her head as she tried to process the new information. She couldn't believe he didn't tell her it was _his_ party. They spent hours together talking back and forth about a number of different things and he never even thought to mention that important detail.

"What else have you learned?" She asked anxiously.

Fin turned left and drove a few feet down the street before she asked him again.

"Fin, what do you know?"

He continued driving, choosing to ignore her questions. Finally, he answered. "I think you're right. We should wait 'til we get to the station so you can give your statement and I'll let Liv tell you what you need to know."

"Oh come on, Fin, you know she's not going to tell me anything!"

"Amanda, that's up to her to decide." He turned the volume down on the stereo just as they arrived at a traffic light. Pressing on the brakes, he turned to her. "The less you know right now, the better. Trust me, you don't want to get yourself involved."

"Me? Get involved? I haven't even done anything."

"Yeah, well, your boyfriend might," Fin countered, stepping on the gas as the light turned green.

"My boyfriend? That guy was not my boyfriend."

"You were gone for four hours with this kid," he said, pausing to let her fill in the implications of that nuanced statement. "I don't know what your mom's thinking, but if I were you, I'd come up with a better excuse than renting Citi Bikes and _just_ talking on rooftops."

"But that's exactly what we did."

He lifted his arms from the wheel in mock surrender. "Look, I'm sorry for assuming –"

"—That I was having sex with him?"

"No, I mean, yes… I can't help it. I see it happening everyday on the job and the teenagers just get younger and younger," Fin explained. "Now, I'm a dad and I've got a son and this is the stuff I thought about when he was growing up. I thought I had to worry about him getting a girl pregnant… guess I didn't have to worry about that at all. But, you know what I'm trying to say here; it's natural that your mom is going to worry about you having sex."

"I – I'm not," she stammered.

"And either way that's fine. Look, all I'm sayin' is don't flip out on her when you see her later," Fin said, proving that he was more perceptive of her emotions than she originally thought. "She's just freaking out because you're growing up so fast, sneaking out to parties and shit."

Amanda swallowed hard. Of course that's why her mom was really upset with her. It was bad enough that she went to that party without her mom's permission, but then she ran off with a boy and was unaccounted for for several hours. It looked bad from almost any angle, and even though she knew none of their theories were accurate, she couldn't help but put herself in the detectives' shoes.

"Is he at the precinct?" She asked.

"Who?"

"Nick. The guy I met at the party."

Fin cast her a sideways glance as he turned down on Broadway. "Yeah, he's sitting pretty in the interview room. Why?"

"Good," she said, settling back against the chair and crossing her arms over her chest. "We'll get our stories straight."

* * *

No one's talking. The other noises one wouldn't typically hear become significantly evident. For example, a ticking clock hung on the wall, the percolating coffee machine at the far end of the room, or the constant taps of thumbs on a piece of glass. They sat there in silence, father and son, for over an hour with only a few short looks between them. They were worse than strangers forced to sit beside each other on an airplane. At least those strangers attempted small talk, asking the person on 17A if they were arriving home or leaving for vacation, wondering if the person on 17B were flying for business or pleasure. But even in that room that was less confined and had more circulation than an airplane cabin, the silence was suffocating.

Still, both men seemed to find more comfort in the absence of chatter than in inane pleasantries.

Rafael glanced down at the Rolex on his wrist – a present to himself when he landed the job at the District Attorney's office. But even with an expensive timepiece, there was still not enough money or influence in the world to control time. He was getting really sick and tired of being told to wait at the precinct while Benson and Stabler talked to their victim and suspect, who were both admitted in Presbyterian. What did they even still want with his son anyway? Nick already identified a handful of kids from the cellphone pictures; he cooperated when they hounded him with questions of his whereabouts, and he even supplied them with a witness to corroborate his airtight alibi. Rafael hated waiting. He wanted everything done competently and efficiently, one case to the next without all this dilly-dallying. And worst of all, he hated not having his finger on the pulse. Not knowing what the hell was going on was really starting to grate on his nerves.

Looking across the table, he quietly observed his son and watched him stare off into space, absent-mindedly twirling a pen between his fingers. It took some skill that Rafael tried to study for all of two minutes until he grew bored. But at an hour and twenty minutes into this mutually assured silent treatment, the pen twirling was driving him up the wall. Without so much as a second thought, he rose from the chair and practically lunged forward to grab the pen from his son's hand.

Nick stared at him in complete shock and disbelief, his mouth hanging open ready to bark an insult but he was too lost for words to come up with anything on the spot. Rafael sat back down and pulled the pen close to the edge of the table, far enough that Nick would have to make a similar effort to reach for it. For a while, they sat there in continued silence until Nick asked a question.

"When do you think they'll be back?"

Rafael gawked at him for a moment as if he was alarmed that his son had a voice. He cast a glimpse down at his watch again and noticed that the minute hand barely moved since he last checked.

"I'd say they should be back soon. They don't usually let police interview victims longer than a few minutes while they're still in the hospital."

"Victims?" Nick rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. Then he looked up at his dad with worry etched in his features. "Do you know who they might be?"

Rafael shook his head in response. "They're keeping that information private until the victims decide to press charges."

Nick placed his hands together and rested them against his lips. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Dad," he started, and immediately Rafael leaned forward and was all ears. "I need your help."

"What is it?" He asked in a flash. "What do you need me to do?"

"I've been trying to reach my girlfriend," he said. "I've been trying to text and call her since we got to the car and drove here, but she hasn't gotten back to me."

"What are you saying?" Rafael had a feeling where this conversation was going but he wanted to hear it from Nick first before he jumped the gun. But judging from the distressed look on his son's face, he had to devise a plan or at least come up with some positive reinforcement to tide him over.

"I left Maria alone and I think she's one of the victims the detectives were talking about," he admitted, unclenching his jaw and exhaling deeply like he was letting go of some close-guarded information he had held onto since the moment he stepped out of that elevator and entered the loft. "I should never have left her… God, how could I have been so stupid to leave her alone? And then run off with some girl I've never met before in my life?"

"Nick, I – I…" _I don't know what to say._

"I could've stayed. I could've protected her."

Rafael stood up and walked around the table to where his son was sitting. Nick's hands were on his lap and they were curled into fists; he had never actually seen it firsthand but he had heard that his son had inherited his temper.

"If some guy put his hands on her, I swear, I'm going to kick his ass!"

"Hey, hey… We don't know that," Rafael tried to put his mind at rest. "For all we know, Maria could be in her bed nursing a hangover."

Nick tightened his fists and clenched his jaw, slowly shaking his head. "I've called her place and the housekeeper said she wasn't home, thought she was with me. I tried her friends and they all said the last time they saw her was before I took her up to my room."

"Wait," Rafael said, holding his arm out to stop him. "You took her to your room?"

"She was drunk and so I told her to sleep it off."

"And that's when you left with Benson's – I mean, with Mandy?"

"Yeah, wait –" Nick cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at his dad. "Do you know her?"

Covering his mouth with hand, Rafael contemplated telling him but he was saved when he looked out through the blinds and saw the detectives returning into the squad room He exchanged a puzzled look with Nick, who immediately got up from the chair. But Rafael placed a hand on his chest to stop him. "Don't worry, I'll handle it and I'll find out what happened to Maria."

Nick was about to protest but Rafael's eyes hardened and his son backed down, sinking back on the chair. Dark rings circled under Nick's eyes from the taxing night, and Rafael couldn't imagine what that paranoia was doing for his kid's stress levels. "Stay here. I won't be long and then I'll bring you home so you can get some sleep." He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Nick looked up at him and gave him a somber nod.

With that, he draped his jacket over his shoulder and advanced out to the squad room to meet with Benson and Stabler. Blocking their path, he stood firm and raised an eyebrow, wordlessly commanding them for an update on the new developments of the investigation.

"Counselor," Olivia began, but her partner took a step forward and took over.

"My partner briefed me on her chat with the victim and we have some new leads."

"New leads?" Rafael asked, furrowing his brows. "I thought you had your suspect."

"We do. But we have a second suspect," Elliot said, lifting his chin up to look over the other man's head and into the interview room.

Rafael furrowed his brows, craning his neck around and pointing to the room with his thumb, and then he whipped back to face both detectives. "Nick? Nick is a suspect?" The sheer ridiculousness of the accusation almost made him laugh, but their serious demeanor was contrary to his idea of a joke. It made him see red. "Are you two out of your minds?"

The officers in the bullpen stopped what they were doing and watched the dispute go down.

"Counselor, if you would just let us explain," Olivia started, bending sideways slightly so she could speak to the ADA without her partner shielding her path. She also stepped closer to Rafael so the eavesdroppers wouldn't get an earful of what she was about to say. "The victim we found in your son's bedroom is Maria Grazie, your son's girlfriend."

Rafael inhaled before he blew out a shaky breath. Then he nodded his head and turned his neck back to peer into the interview room, where his son was sitting with his back turned to the bickering going on outside. He sighed and shook his head.

"Wait, you knew it was Maria?" Olivia asked, narrowing her eyes.

He reared his head back and narrowed his eyes at her in feigned disbelief. He didn't want to give anything away and implicate his son, possibly making him appear guiltier than the detectives already assumed him to be. "No. But I know that he would never hurt her. He's been trying to contact her for the last three hours; he's been worried sick about her."

Elliot cocked an eyebrow at Rafael. "He's been trying to call her? We're going to need his phone to check his messages."

"Whoa, not without a warrant you're not."

"He might've texted her, told her to drop the charges," Elliot said, turning to Olivia. "Nick could be good for the rape."

Rafael's jaw dropped and his eyes opened slowly.

The female detective looked warily at her partner then back at the ADA. "Maria said that Nick brought her to his room and the last memory she had was the two of them in bed kissing. Our strongest lead is still the male suspect in the hospital, but he's still incapacitated from all the drugs in his system. Detective Stabler was unable to talk to him, but from the initial evidence we're confident that he's the perp."

"Then arrest him!" Rafael cried out. "What do you want with my son?"

"Maria's statement puts Nick with her after midnight," Olivia explained. "Now, we're not saying that Nick did this but we will need his phone and his DNA… it could help rule him out."

Rafael lifted his chin and fixed his eyes at Olivia. "Go talk to a judge and secure a warrant."

"You don't want to fight this, Counselor," Elliot warned.

"Try me."

"Dad?" Nick called, stepping out to the tension-filled bullpen. "What's going on? What do they need a warrant for?"

Before Rafael could respond, Elliot placed his hands on his hips and stared Nick down. "Nick Amaro, you are now a suspect for drugging and raping your girlfriend, Maria Grazie."

Nick had the wind knocked out of him with the gravity of those allegations. He fixed his eyes on Elliot's unyielding expression, his throat suddenly feeling parched and constricted. Rafael stood in front of him and gave his word that he would handle it and that he would do whatever it takes to make those unsubstantiated accusations go away. He was ADA Rafael Barba for Christ's sake, and he wasn't going to let these detectives harass him or his family.

But his son wasn't focused on Elliot anymore, and he wasn't listening to anything that his father was saying. Nick was looking way past him, up the stairs, behind where they were all standing. At the top of the steps were Fin and a blonde-haired girl, who Rafael had been introduced to only several days prior. And judging from the disgusted look on her face, she had heard the utter defamation of his son's character.


	6. Young Blood

_**AN** : Hey! I want to say thank you to those who left reviews for chapter five. You guys are awesome, and I really appreciate your feedback. Although, I have to admit I'm a little discouraged that I got less than half the reviews I normally get per chapter. I don't know if people are losing interest (but views and visitors are still consistent, so idk) or if people just weren't in the mood for reviewing last chapter. Either way, I'd like to know people's thoughts even if it's criticisms about my writing, the direction of this story, or what I'm doing/not doing with these ships. I'm always looking to improve. :)_

 _Anyway, we soldier on. Please read, enjoy, and review!_

* * *

 **Save Room**

 **6\. Young Blood**

* * *

Nick's eyes locked with Amanda's blues, her delicate mouth turning down into a grimace. Obstructing his view, his father got close to his face and spoke in hurried Spanish, swearing blasphemies and calling the allegations preposterous. Absently, Nick lowered his head in agreement; but the only thought whirling in his mind was Maria. He was finally getting to grips with the reality of the situation – that his girlfriend was raped when he left her alone in his bedroom. It was like being punched in the gut to comprehend the grave facts and realize that behind those words, there was a girl that was violated. _His_ girl.

"Our suspect is awake."

They all turned around to look at Sergeant John Munch, who was seated behind his desk. He placed the phone back on the receiver and turned to look up at his partner.

"Fin and I are going to talk to him," he said, before fixing his eyes on Detectives Benson and Stabler. "You two, hold down the fort."

Nick watched as the two men disappeared down the hall that led to the elevators. From the corner of his eye, he quietly observed as Detective Benson crossed the bullpen to take Amanda by the elbow and escort her down another hallway. His blank gaze shifted back to his dad who was spouting legal terms left and right.

"Are you even listening?"

He blinked and then looked past his father. "Yeah… Where's Maria? Can I see her?"

Elliot stood his ground and blocked Nick's path. "You can't do that right now. We still have some questions."

"This interrogation is over," said Rafael, crossing his arms over his chest. "You have no incriminating evidence."

"CSU found semen on the sheets –"

"—And all it proves is that my son had a consensual sexual relationship with his girlfriend. Am I right, Nick?" Rafael shot a look over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at his son.

"Uh… yeah…" he stammered then looked at Elliot. "Look, detective, I'll do whatever I can to help you find Maria's ra… the guy who did this to her. If you need my DNA to help with your investigation –"

"—No!" Rafael set himself between the two men. "You are not giving them your DNA until they have a warrant. Even a baseless allegation will remain in your record once they enter it into the system."

"But I have nothing to hide! I didn't do anything!"

"You do not make legal decisions based on your wounded pride," Rafael said, clenching his jaw. "I told you to let me handle this."

"This isn't about clearing my name. This is about doing what I can to help them catch the asshole who put his hands on my girlfriend."

Rafael shook his head. "You do this, and you might as well be handing them the bullet to the gun that will pin you down as their primary suspect."

"Ok, ok, easy, counselor," Elliot said, pushing his arms out to separate both men. "No one's conspiring against your son. But it looks like he wants to cooperate with our investigation, so let's allow him to make his own decision, all right?"

"I know what's in his best interest so back off, detective."

Elliot placed his hands on his hips and lowered his eyes at the shorter man. Looking at them, it was like a pissing contest with both men trying to assert their dominance. It was clear that both men came from two vastly different backgrounds, but their backbones were both unwavering.

"You don't have a shred of evidence!" Rafael raised his arms in exasperation. "I mean, did the girl even press charges yet?"

"Well…" Elliot trailed off, tilting his head to the side and shrugging his shoulders.

"Unbelievable!" Rafael cried out before he turned back to his son. "You see? No charges filed and they're relentlessly making accusations on a case that doesn't even exist. You believe me now, Nicky?"

Nick's eyes fixed on the detective's, ignoring his father's outburst, which, he thought, made his old man sound like a real blowhard.

"But she was still raped?"

Elliot nodded his head once. "She was raped."

"Let me see her. Let me talk to her."

"I'm afraid we can't do that while you're a suspect –"

"- For God's sake!" Rafael roared. "He can't be a suspect if you don't have a case!"

Nick crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin in defiance. "Look, I'll cooperate and give you guys whatever you want; but I need to see Maria first. Alone."

* * *

Once they arrived in the cribs, Amanda pulled out of her mother's grasp and rubbed her elbow. She figured she deserved this treatment after putting her mom through all that panic and worry. Olivia paced across the room, aggressively running her hands through her hair.

"Amanda, what were you thinking going to that party?"

She released a heavy breath. "Mom, I'm sorry."

"And then traipsing around the city after midnight with _that_ boy?"

"I said I was sorry!"

"You better be," Olivia raised her voice, pointing an accusing finger at her daughter. "I don't even know where to start with you, but you're definitely grounded. You're not allowed out of the house for the rest of the month except for school and track practice. You're lucky if I let you attend homecoming after this stunt."

"That's not fair!"

"Fair?" Olivia reared her head back and narrowed her eyes. "You went to a party with drugs and alcohol."

Amanda opened her mouth to protest, but Olivia lifted her hand to stop her.

"And don't even lie to me and tell me you didn't have a drop to drink… God, Amanda, did you have any idea there were date rape drugs in that party? What if someone slipped it into your drink, huh?"

Amanda rolled her eyes and sank down on one of the cots. "Quit being so dramatic. I'm fine," she said, sweeping her hands down to proclaim that she was both alive and unharmed. "Besides, I wasn't around long enough to see it get that crazy."

"That's another thing," Olivia started. "You've never met this boy before and you think it's a _good_ idea to walk around the city with him? I know you think you can take care of yourself, and I do give you some degree of autonomy, but you always put yourself in danger –"

"—Danger? Mom, don't be ridiculous."

"You need to be more mindful of people."

"You mean mindful of boys, right?" Amanda shot back. "Just because you deal with a lot of horny teenage boys who have no respect for girls' boundaries doesn't mean they're all like that."

"He's a suspect in our investigation," Olivia said, pressing her lips into a slight frown. "I think it's fair to say that he might fall in that category of boys I don't trust being alone with my teenager."

"You've got the wrong guy!"

Her mother cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know that?"

"We talked."

Her mind drifted back to their conversation on the rooftop, and how she felt comfortable enough around him to open up about her experience in foster care. She didn't tell him about Georgia. There were less than a handful of people she's ever talked to about Georgia; but looking into his eyes last night, she just knew that she could trust him.

"Is that all you did?"

"Yes!" Amanda blew out an exasperated sigh. "We ate falafels, rode up to midtown on Citi bikes, and just talked. Fin took my statement."

"It's hard for me to trust you after you lied to me," Olivia admitted, wrapping her arms around herself and turning away from her daughter.

Rolling her eyes, Amanda scoffed. "Oh please. Look who's talking… You're the one sneaking around and sleeping with Brian Cassidy."

Olivia's hands flew over her mouth and she stared back at Amanda with wide eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, Amanda scowled at the shocked expression on her mother's face. She knew she promised Brian that she wouldn't speak of their run-in that morning, but all bets were off when her mom was calling her a liar. Besides, she didn't owe Brian anything. So why should she protect him?

Olivia swallowed hard and calmed herself before she spoke. "I didn't want to tell you until I knew where it was going."

"Yeah, whatever," Amanda said, getting up from the cot and walking to the opposite end of the room. She whipped around to look at her mom. "You got it all wrong. Nick didn't rape that girl because I was with him all night and nothing he said or did gave me the impression that he's a bad guy. I get that you're upset with me because I didn't tell you about the party, but trust me when I say that Nick is innocent."

"We still need to do our due diligence," Olivia sighed. "I _want_ to believe you. If it means anything, I don't think he fits the profile and he also seemed genuinely distressed to hear what happened to his girlfriend..."

Amanda winced at the mention of the girlfriend. She had no idea up until she and Fin walked downstairs to the bullpen and overheard the heated argument between the detectives and the ADA. She couldn't believe Nick withheld that information from her. But looking back at their conversations, he never really led her to believe he was single and interested in her either. So why didn't he say anything when she kissed him?

"I understand that you want to defend him, Amanda," her mom began, placing her hands in her pockets. "But I just don't trust him with you."

"He didn't do anything… _we_ didn't do anything."

"Amanda, it's ok. When I was your age –"

"Oh my god!" Amanda cried out, stalking forward to take her mom by the hand, leading her back out the squad room. Once she saw the three men standing by the doorway of the interview room, she marched up to them with Olivia practically being dragged right behind her.

"Nick!" She called out. "Tell my mom that we didn't have sex."

"What?" Nick's brows creased as he stared at her with wide eyes. "She's your mom?" He looked between his dad and Olivia, trying to gauge their reactions and trying to piece through this tangled web. His deep brown eyes drifted back to hers and she felt her heart beating hard beneath her chest. She blew out a shaky breath to calm herself.

Amanda fixed her gaze on Nick before she turned away, feeling the heat in her cheeks. She was tapping her foot impatiently to distract herself from her heart pounding. "Just tell her so she'll quit worrying about me."

"We didn't have sex," he said, scrunching his face up in confusion. "I swear."

"See!" Amanda opened her palm to stress the point; then she looked over her shoulder and twisted her lips in a wry smile. "He wouldn't cheat on his girlfriend."

* * *

The entire room gawked at the feisty, young blonde; but no one with as much intensity as Rafael's son. The ADA was about to speak up when he heard the click of heels and a familiar voice.

"Where's Nicholas Amaro?"

He looked past the detectives to see his ex-wife, accompanied by a uniformed officer, turning the corner into the squad room. Isabella was dressed in a low-cut blouse, a skin-tight skirt, and five-inch heels. Needless to say, all eyes had averted to the bottle blonde with olive skin and a pair of stems that went on for miles. She marched down the room like it was her catwalk, glaring at the direction of the detectives and sneering at Rafael.

"Let's go, Nick," she commanded, taking him by the wrist, but he yanked his arm away. She pursed her lips and tilted her head at him, like it was so unbelievable that someone would challenge her.

"Who are you?" Elliot asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Isabella Amaro. I'm his mother and his attorney."

"And my ex-wife," Rafael added bitterly, pressing his lips together in a scowl.

"Oh, two lawyers in the family," Elliot said in amusement. He chanced a look at his partner and shrugged his shoulders. "Must make for an interesting Thanksgiving dinner."

Isabella gave him a fake smile. "You done, officer?"

"It's detective, actually." Elliot clenched his jaw and positioned his hands on his hips.

She simply rolled her eyes and turned back to her son. "Let's go. You don't have to talk to the police." She then turned to the detectives. "I consulted with Maria's parents, who are driving down from their cottage upstate, and they said that the detectives are mistaken and that their daughter wasn't raped."

"That's not true," Olivia interjected. "The nurses found bruises consistent with sexual assault."

"There was no rape kit, because no one was raped." Isabella arched a brow and gave the female detective a once-over. "I don't know what your agenda is, but you are not going to coerce a girl into pressing charges for something that didn't happen to her. If you are so thirsty for justice and an improved closure rate that you insist on falsifying evidence, then do it on another case. Do not involve my son in any of this."

Rafael nodded his head in agreement – a move that nearly surprised him considering this was his bitch of an ex-wife. While he thought the detectives were reaching with the allegations against his son, he didn't doubt that Maria was assaulted. He just didn't think it was a case worth pursuing if she made the choice not to cooperate with the investigation. It would just be a waste of time. He wasn't heartless; he did feel sympathy for the girl but he just didn't believe in strong-arming her into disclosing details of her assault and effectively forcing her into a trial she didn't want.

Isabella wasn't done though. Her glare was now fixed on the father of her child. "You allowed these vultures to interrogate him?"

"All he did was give a statement," Rafael replied defensively.

"And now you're allowing them to hold him as a suspect?"

"I'm not!"

"Nick, you didn't have to say anything; you were always free to go," she said, holding his arm. "Your father is just too much of an incompetent coward to tell you."

"Mom…" He lowered his head and sighed.

Isabella glanced sideways and smirked. "I can see some things never change with you, Rafi. You're still as weak as you were back in Harvard… maybe all these years being away from a woman has made you soft."

"You evil, manipulative bitch."

Elliot gently pushed the ADA back to maintain some distance between him and Isabella. Rafael shook out of his grasp and straightened his jacket, his eyes instinctively drifting to Olivia whose mouth was slightly open. He quickly cocked his head to the side and mentally shook the anger and the frustration out of him. The last thing he wanted was to recreate their divorce proceedings in the middle of the 16th precinct.

Isabella checked the Cartier watch on her wrist before she turned back to Nick. "Let's get you home."

"No!" Nick got out of her hold and took a step back. He clenched his fists as his chest rose and fell in rapid breaths. "You two can go to hell. I'm out of here."

* * *

Olivia pressed the phone to her ear and listened to the voice on the other line. She sighed when she heard the final orders and the warning not to go rogue. "Yes, I understand, Captain."

She ended the call and leaned back on her chair with a heavy sigh. Steepling her fingers over her eyes, she barely caught Rafael walking past her desk, sliding his coat over his shoulders, and walking down toward the elevator. Quickly, she got up and followed him down the hall.

"Counselor," she called, watching as he slowly turned around at the sound of her voice. He pursed his lips and raised a brow. "I just heard from my captain and he said that the brass wants us to drop the case. Apparently, the Grazies pulled some strings in 1PP."

Rafael sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not surprised. Prominent family – I'm sure the last thing they want is to have their only child's assault plastered all over the papers. And you know all the media will focus on is the fact that she was drunk and high when this happened to her."

Olivia nodded. "Trust me, I know what happened to Maria and I wish we could pursue this and give her justice; but our hands are tied." She paused, bowing her head and looking away from the ADA. "If it's any consolation, I didn't think your son had anything to do with it. But you understand that I was just doing my job… It's nothing personal."

"Doing your job?" He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You mean accusing a 16-year-old boy of rape when you don't even have evidence or charges filed? You know, after reading up on your squad, I expected the scare tactics coming from Stabler but not from you."

"Do I have to remind you that a 16-year-old girl was raped?" Olivia questioned. "We don't give special treatment to a suspect because of his age or because of his relation to you. My partner and I never employed scare tactics."

"Next time, before you crucify a kid, I suggest you cover all your bases and make sure you have a case."

"My squad followed protocol."

Rafael laughed darkly and shook his head. "If this is protocol, and if this is how your squad operates, then I cannot serve as your ADA. I expect detectives to be thorough. And this entire investigation was a shit show and a pile of baseless speculation from the get-go."

Olivia placed her hands in her pockets and raised her brows at him.

"Do you always lead with emotion, detective?" He asked, probing her with his green eyes. She felt like he was staring into her depths and unwrapping her very nature; and they had only just met days ago.

She cleared her throat. "Pardon?"

"I've noticed that you go with your emotions first – who you feel is guilty, who you think deserves justice – before you look at the facts and the whole picture. Regardless of Nick's involvement in this case, I would have still advised you to take a step back. I suggest you work on your objectivity."

"Don't tell me how to do my job," Olivia squinted her eyes, pointing a finger at his chest.

Rafael looked down at her finger before his gaze lingered on her brown eyes, alight with anger.

"I understand that Isabella Amaro made you look like a fool in front of everyone, but don't take out your frustrations and delayed comebacks on me."

"I – I – She's the last thing on my mind," he stammered. "What happened in there has nothing to do with my opinion on how your squad mishandled this case."

"Then take it up with my captain," she countered. "I was just trying to apologize when you questioned my objectivity."

He scoffed. "Your sincere apology is very touching. Are we done here, detective?"

Olivia lifted her chin and gave him a tight smile. She stood in place as Rafael broke their proximity, turning on his heel and stepping into the elevator. She walked back into the bullpen and sank into her chair, burying her face in her hands before stroking her hair away from her face. Whatever just happened there with the ADA, she wanted to forget all of it. Suddenly she missed having Casey and Alex around.

Her partner looked up from his desk and gave her a small, reassuring smile. "That ADA is a tool."

She lowered her head and returned the smile.

"Wait," Elliot said, his eyes lighting up almost flirtatiously, "you actually agree with me?"

* * *

After hounding them with questions at the nurses' station, Nick ran up the stairs to the fourth floor. He needed to see her. He needed to know how she was doing. His restlessness was at an all time high that he ran the sixteen blocks from the precinct to the hospital where Maria was admitted. While his legs carried him to Presbyterian, his mind raced with anguish for the girl he loved.

Right when he turned the corner, he caught sight of Detectives Munch and Fin emerging out of one of the hospital rooms. Quickly retreating, he stood against the wall and steadied his breathing. He peered from the corner and saw them walking down the hall, their voices getting louder.

"You got Cragen's text?" said Munch, placing his phone back into his jacket pocket.

Fin nodded. "Yeah, man. So our suspect admitted to having sex with our vic, but now we can't use it because the brass wants us to drop the case? So we just let this guy stay here?"

"There's nothing we can do. Case dismissed."

"And what, this kid goes back to school on Monday like nothing ever happened?" Fin exclaimed, crinkling his nose in disgust. "That's messed up."

"Our vic doesn't want to help herself out," Munch replied, placing a hand on Fin's shoulder. They walked toward the elevator, completely oblivious of the fact that Nick was standing in the stairwell and listening to their conversation. "We need to respect her choice."

Once the detectives were far enough down the hall, Nick walked down the opposite way until he reached the room where they came from. Looking left and right before entering the room, Nick slowly turned the knob on the door. Once the patient came to view, Nick was frozen on the spot, his blood draining from his face.

"Nicky, hey!" his friend, Eric, greeted, sitting up on the hospital bed. Besides looking a little pale, he didn't look like he belonged there. "You didn't have to stop by, but since you did, where are my flowers?" He laughed at his own joke, stretching his arms behind his head.

Nick clenched his fists and hardened his eyes. Eric watched with wary suspicion as Nick took one calculated step forward.

"Hey, man, I was just messing with you. I didn't actually want you to get me flo –"

Before Eric could finish his sentence, Nick attacked him with his fists, throwing punches and connecting blows to his head. He saw red. Ignoring the pain in his knuckles and the strained whimpers coming out of Eric's mouth, he continued his attack in a blind rage.

"You sick son of a bitch!"

 _Punch._

"I'm going to kill you!"

 _Punch._

Eric's forearms tried to shield his face, but Nick's fists slammed against the side of his head and up his jaw, a discernible crack when his head was thrown back. Blood was pouring out of his nose and his eyes were both red and blown from their sockets. The scent of iron wafted into the room, replacing the clinical smell of bleach.

The door flew open.

"Shit!" Fin yelled as soon as he saw the reason for the commotion. Without a second wasted, the detective got behind him and wrestled him away.

"Get off him!" Fin pulled Nick off the bed and stumbled back towards the opposite end of the room. He pushed him hard against the wall and Nick's eyes snapped open, holding his arms up in surrender. As Fin held the 16-year-old back and relaxed once he stopped struggling, Munch tried to look at the kid and reason with him but all he saw were vacant eyes and a small curl of his lip, turning up into a devilish smirk.


	7. Other Side

**AN:** _Hola! Before anything, I just want to say thank you to all the people who reviewed chapter six (i love you). I admit, I have been feeling a little lost on this story because I didn't have a direction when I started it. I just wanted to start a story with Mama Liv and Papi Rafael with teenage (mutant ninja turtle) Rollaro. Still, sort of feeling lost so I'd love it if you made some suggestions of scenes you'd like to see them in. You can either PM me or leave it in a review, totally up to you. I'm reading what you're saying and I take your feedback into every chapter (because I need all the guidance I can get, lol). Oh, and thanks for being patient with my updates :)_

 _Please read, enjoy, and review!_

* * *

 **Save Room**

 **7\. Other Side**

* * *

Pushed hard against the wall, Nick's heart palpitated and his lungs gasped for air. Blinking back to reality, he was no longer seeing retribution in the form of his girlfriend's rapist; he was seeing two detectives holding him back and telling him to calm down. It was only then that he started feeling the sharp pain shooting up his arm, the blood running from his sore knuckles. One of the detectives eased up on his shoulder, tilting his head to look him in the eye.

"Nick, you listening?"

"Let's get him out of here," said Detective Munch. "And let's get Barba on the phone."

At the mention of his father's name, the probable consequences of his actions paralyzed him. He had just launched himself at Eric – someone who deserved every punch – but at the forefront of his mind, he pictured himself getting arrested and taken in the back of a squad car. Instinctively, his fists clenched, which caused another electrifying pain to zap through his nerves. Questions ran through his head. _What was going to happen next? Who was accused of rape and then charged with a separate count of assault in the span of one whirlwind of a morning?_

"We need to call a nurse," Munch declared, escorting Nick toward the door. He was still a little dazed; not really understanding what was going on or where they were taking him. _Were they arresting him?_

Fin looked over his shoulder at the other kid, who had his hands over his nose to stop the bleeding. "Do we have to call them or can we just leave him here?"

Munch tried to hide his amusement and shook his head at his partner.

From the hospital bed, Eric whimpered in pain, crying out for someone to help him. As they were leaving, Eric picked his head up from the bed and called out his attacker. "She wanted it."

"Tell me I didn't hear you right." Fin advanced to the bed, hovering menacingly over the kid.

Eric scoffed at the detective and spit out some blood on the sheets. "Maria wanted to get fucked." He kept his eyes on Nick's. "Ask her yourself."

It took all of Fin's restraint not to sock the kid on the side of his skull. Instead, he psyched him out before he jammed his fist on the nurse's call button. Meanwhile, Munch pushed Nick out of the doorway before he could launch himself into another blind rage. But Nick, surprisingly, didn't resist or fight back. He backed himself on the wall, his hand covering his mouth to subdue the shock that was running through his whole body.

Eric Price, the senior captain of their soccer team and his good friend, raped his girlfriend and claimed she wanted it. His blood boiled and his fists clenched in spite of the pain. He wanted so badly to go back in the hospital room and knock him out cold; but a small voice in the back of his head told him to stop letting the anger take over and heed the direction of the detectives.

Munch slowly approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Nick jerked back, and Munch pulled his hand away, raising his arms up in surrender. "Kid, let us take you to the station –"

"Are you arresting me?" Panic struck across his face.

"No," Munch answered.

"Am I being detained?"

The detective sighed and tried to place a comforting hand on his arm. This time, Nick didn't pull away. "Look, we don't have to process you. But I do want to keep an eye on you until we can get into contact with one of your parents. You're going through some stress and trauma right now and I would suggest you get your head clear before you, uh –"

"—Do something stupid," Fin finished for him.

Nick ducked his head, following the detectives all the way to the unmarked police car. From the hospital, they drove back to the 16th precinct, which was becoming more and more familiar to him. Upon arriving at the SVU squad room, he noticed that Detectives Benson and Stabler were away from their desks. They bypassed the interview and interrogation rooms until they led him down the end of the hall into the bunks. After leaving him in there to "take it easy", Fin and Munch returned to the bullpen to take care of matters. Before Munch closed the door, he assured him they weren't going to let Eric press charges after he did something so much more reprehensible to Maria.

Sitting down on one of the bunks, Nick buried his face in one hand while he slowly spread his fingers out on his right hand. He winced as he inspected the damage – dried blood, cuts and scrapes just above the bone, and purple bruising spreading across his skin.

The door slammed shut. Nick lifted his head to see Amanda standing in front of it with an icepack in her hand. She walked across the room and extended it out like some kind of gift or peace offering. "I heard you were back."

"Thanks," he said, applying the ice over the bruise.

"Did you feel better after hitting him?"

Nick chuckled softly. "Yeah, a little bit."

Amanda smirked. She slowly walked across the room, intertwining her fingers and casting nervous glances toward him. With a deep breath, she finally spoke up. "Look, everything was rushed and crazy back there with my mom and your dad… and then your mom came," she trailed off, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. She sank down on the bunk across from him, fidgeting with her hands."I don't really know what happened but I heard enough, and I'm sorry about what happened to your girlfriend."

He lowered his head and twisted his mouth in a frown. "Yeah… I'm sorry, too, that I accidentally ratted you out to your mom."

"Whatever," she said, throwing him a smile. They stayed sitting across from each other in silence for a while, neither one of them certain what to say next. As Nick iced his hand and studied the swelling, Amanda stood up from her bunk and sat next to him. "Can I see?"

He arched a brow before he set his right hand down on her open palms. She bent down slightly to inspect his hand, and then she took the ice and applied it for him.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend?" Amanda asked the question point-blank.

Nick's mouth opened slightly but he hesitated on his response. "Y-you never asked."

She cocked her head to the side and raised a brow.

"It just never came up," he started, and then he chewed on his lip and gave her a sorry look. "But I should've told you anyway –"

"—Before I kissed you, right?" Amanda intended to look him in the eye, but she couldn't keep her eyes locked on his so she averted her gaze down to the floor. Nick felt bad about possibly sending her the wrong signals, but there was that voice in the back of his head telling him that he had no ill intentions and he wasn't trying to send any sort of signal in the first place. He was just being himself. And yes, he left out the part about Maria but mostly because she hadn't crossed his mind that entire time he was with Amanda.

The admission, even though it was all in his mind, was a bit too much to acknowledge giving the current circumstances. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it felt like guilt.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She smiled up at him, a pink blush creeping up her cheeks. "I had a good time hanging out."

He returned the smile despite the doubts of indiscretion; it was just a harmless smile. "Me too."

* * *

As soon as Rafael received the phone call from Sergeant Munch, he called upon a higher power to split the pavement and swallow him whole. _Not again_ , he thought to himself before he instructed the cab driver to turn around and head back north toward the midtown precinct. During the drive, he got in touch with his assistant, who was quite miffed to be appointed a task on a Saturday. She connected him to Eric Price's lawyers, a pair of name partners at one of the most prestigious firms in the city. Considering the Price family's political legacy, they only hired the best; and they also agreed not to press assault charges as long as the DA's office and NYPD kept to their word and ceased all investigations pertaining to their client. By no means was it an ideal situation, especially for the victim. But it did keep his son out of an orange jumpsuit, and that was Rafael's priority.

Upon arriving at the squad room, Fin directed him down the hall to the bunks. The seasoned detective updated him on what exactly happened in the hospital room, adding that he had no issues with what Nick did to that "sick son of a bitch." Fin reached for the door, pushing it open to reveal two laughing teenagers. Seated side by side on one of the bottom bunks, Amanda held an icepack over his right hand.

They looked up simultaneously, their smiles faltering at the intrusion. Rafael caught his son's dark eyes before he looked down and away. Pulling his hand away and taking the icepack from her hands, he scooted forward and hunched his shoulders. "Dad, I'm sorry for dragging you back in here. I don't know what came over me."

Fin lifted his chin up at Amanda. "Come on, baby girl," he said, suggesting that the father and son needed some privacy to talk. She stood up and passed by the two men, casting a glance and a comforting smile at Nick before Fin draped his arm over her shoulder and ushered her down the hall.

"How's your hand?"

"A little banged up but it's fine," Nick explained simply, rising from the bed and walking toward the center of the room.

"I spoke to Eric's lawyers and they said their client won't press charges."

Nick scoffed and shook his head. "They're only saying that because they know he's guilty, and if we go to court the truth's going to come out that he raped Maria."

Rafael nodded once then let out a heavy breath. "The department and the DA's office have decided to end all investigations on this case as per the Grazie family's request. I'm sorry there isn't more we could have done for her." Hesitantly, he placed his hand on his son's shoulder and steered him toward the door. "I spoke to your mother on my way here and we agreed that it's best if you move in with me today. I'm sure you wouldn't want to see your room after –" he stopped himself and decided to change course, - after CSU went through it."

Shrugging his shoulders, Nick followed him from the bunks and back out to the squad room, where they saw both Fin and Munch catching up on some paperwork.

"Stay out of trouble, kid," Munch called out from his desk.

"I will," Nick told him, a small smile across his lips to express his gratitude for speaking some sense back into him.

As they crossed through the room, Rafael stopped when he noticed the two empty desks that belonged to Stabler and Benson. He glanced down at her desk and stared intently at a five by seven photograph of Olivia and her daughter. It looked like it was taken in Washington Square Park sometime in the fall as the leaves on the trees had taken on a warm hue.

"Dad," Nick said, breaking his reverie and capturing his attention. "Are you looking for someone?"

Rafael's head jolted up just in time to see a knowing smirk on his son's face.

* * *

The weekend went by swiftly for Amanda. The aftermath of the party had been like a tornado but after the case was dropped, everything seemed to settle down, leaving behind some debris.

Straight away, Olivia had enough on her plate with a new, high-priority case that had landed on her desk. She and Elliot were out all weekend to chase leads on a woman accused of kidnapping her sister's newborn. By Sunday night, they had located the woman and the child, who was thankfully unharmed. Even with all the madness of the job, Olivia made sure to remind Amanda that she was grounded.

Not that Amanda wanted to leave the house anyway.

By Monday, as soon as she reached her locker at school, Wes and Claire surrounded her to hound her with questions. They had heard rumors that the police were called into the party because a girl was raped. Apparently no one knew who it was because the authorities had swept it under the rug to protect the victim's identity. Even if Amanda did know who was raped and she trusted her friends wouldn't tell anyone else outside their circle, she kept her lips sealed. Sure, she had no ties to Maria – never even met the girl – but Amanda felt for her in a way her own mother still found challenging to accept. If Maria didn't want to be a victim, then she could make that choice. Amanda firmly supported that.

By lunch, questions about the party had gotten old and Wes and Claire finally got the hint that she wasn't going to give up any details about the case. Instead, they shifted their questioning to the topic of the guy with who she rode bikes and trespasses rooftops. Neither of her friends knew his name, and Amanda wanted to keep it that way.

"What's his first name?" Wes asked, supporting his chin with his hands as he leaned over their lunch table. "First letter of his first name?" He asked again when she didn't budge.

"It doesn't even matter." She waved her hand dismissively. "Turns out he has a girlfriend."

His mouth opened in surprise. "He didn't tell you?"

Nonchalantly, she lifted a shoulder in response and then proceeded to eat her burger that tasted more of cardboard than ground beef. It still beat her mother's proposed packed lunches.

"When did you find out?" Wes asked. She felt like she was handcuffed to a table in an interrogation room. "Have you talked to him since the party?"

Amanda realized her mistake. No one could know that they had talked. She didn't want anyone knowing that Nick was picked up and brought to the precinct for questioning.

"Hold it," Claire interrupted, looking up briefly from her phone that had been in her hands the entire lunch period. Nothing about it seemed out of place because Claire always had some sort of technology attached to her like an extra limb, whether it was her phone, her tablet, or her laptop. She flipped it around to show them a Facebook profile. "This is him, right? I remember that face. He's the guy who left the party with you."

Amanda ground her teeth and gave Claire a harsh look. Seeing Nick's profile picture, she sighed and lowered her head in defeat. Her mom was a detective; turned out so was her best friend.

Wes took the phone and arched his brows in approval as he studied the action shot of Nick throwing a football. He swiped left at the next picture where he was dressed in a suit and smiling at the camera; it looked like it was taken at a wedding or some gala. "Mmm… yes," said Wes, licking his lips. He swiped again and then his mouth twisted into a scowl. He turned the phone to the two girls and pointed at the picture. "That's her, right? That's the girlfriend."

When Amanda was picturing Nick's girlfriend, she secretly hoped she wasn't gorgeous. She knew how wrong it was thinking that way knowing what Maria had gone through; but there were some thoughts she just couldn't help. Looking at the picture, she bit down on her lip as she took in the sight of the ridiculously attractive couple. His arm was draped over her shoulder while her arm was wrapped around his waist. They looked happy. They looked perfect together.

"She's all right, but you're so much prettier than her," Wes stated. She knew he was trying to make her feel better, but if only he knew what really happened then maybe he wouldn't have made the superfluous comparison.

"I agree," Claire said, pursing her lips and nodding. "She looks like one of those girls who has major resting bitch face when she's not smiling."

Amanda took the phone and set it face down on the table, earning startled looks from both of her friends. "Enough." She grabbed her tray, suddenly losing her appetite, and rose from the bench. "I'll see you guys after school," she said before stalking out of the cafeteria.

Out in the empty halls, Amanda headed into the girls' bathroom for a smoke. She usually didn't do this at school but after getting the third degree from her friends and hearing them compliment her at the expense of Maria, she was feeling more anxious than usual. She pushed into the last stall and stood over the toilet to prop open the window. Climbing down, she looked through her backpack for her cigarettes and just as she was about to light up, the bathroom door opened and three girls strolled in.

She leaned her head against the tile and groaned when she recognized the owners of those high-pitched voices. Kayla and her posse of mean girls stood by the sink in the middle of another vapid conversation about hair and nails. Amanda looked through the tiny gap through the stall and watched as they primped in front of the mirror and pointed out each other's flaws.

"Did you guys hear about the St. Francis party on Friday?" asked Leslie. She was Kayla's lapdog, the one who followed her around and agreed with everything her master said. She was also the biggest gossip in school and hated the fact that Wes knew everything about everyone without even really trying. Wes just couldn't help that he was a social butterfly and people liked to give him the scoop. "I heard it got really wild."

"Yeah, I heard the police came," added Vanessa. She was the only one in the group who was actually intimidating since she was captain of the girls' rugby team. That, and the fact that she had been kicked out of her last school for tearing off a chunk of hair from a girl's scalp. Vee, as most of her friends called her, also dated a lot of older guys, which Amanda thought was gross and, not to mention, illegal. She had a theory that Kayla was secretly jealous of Vee and she was just keeping her close because it was the best way to keep tabs on her _frenemy._ "Turns out, the cops found coke and X. Damn, I wish I could'a been there."

"Not only that," Leslie added, pointing her mascara wand. "A girl was raped."

Kayla and Vanessa turned to Leslie with stunned expressions. "Oh my god, really? Tell us!"

Leslie smirked, obviously pleased with herself that she knew information that could make the queen bee happy. "It's this St. Francis girl… I think her name is Maria Grazie."

"No way!" Kayla's jaw dropped. "I know her… I mean, I've heard of her."

"Do you know who did it?" Vanessa asked impatiently.

Leslie nodded quickly, her eyes wide as her mouth curled up to a mischievous smile. "My cousin goes there and she texted me this morning saying that Eric Price came to school with his face all busted up. He was there with his parents to meet with the principal and when they left, everyone was talking about how he was transferring out to boarding school up in Connecticut."

"That doesn't prove he did it though…." Vanessa replied skeptically. "But wait, who beat him up?"

Leslie's brows crinkled as she tried to recall the name. "It was Maria's boyfriend. Nick something…"

"Nick Amaro," Kayla finished for her.

From inside the stall, Amanda's hand flew over her mouth to suppress the gasp. She was willing her heart to stop beating so violently beneath her chest, in fear that they could hear it. She wanted nothing more than to get out of that bathroom but she couldn't do that with the girls standing right outside. The unlit cigarette quivered between her fingers, her anxiety firing through all her senses.

Leaning over the sink to apply lipgloss, Kayla casually added, "And I don't think Eric raped that girl. They were sneaking around and fucking each other all summer at the Hamptons. I'm sure she wanted it."

"What? How do you know this?" Leslie asked incredulously.

Kayla sneered and gave her friend a once-over. "You think you're the only one who's got sources, sweetie?"

* * *

Olivia was at the courthouse all afternoon forced to listen to a defense attorney cast doubt on the testimony of a young girl. She was already terrified of taking the stand against her foster father, a man who sexually abused her for the last six months. She didn't need some egotistic rape apologist to scare her into a refusal to testify. Even though Amanda hadn't been in the exact situation, the trial still hit close to home. Olivia desperately wanted to call it a day, head home, and hug her daughter.

After the judge called for a recess, Olivia followed the stream of people out of the courtroom. Glancing down at her phone to check for messages, she didn't realize that she had nearly run into someone walking the opposite direction. He was also looking down at his phone. "I'm sorry. Excuse me," she said quickly, stepping aside. But then she stood rooted in place, her brown eyes fixed on the green ones that belonged to Rafael Barba.

"Detective Benson," he greeted her, a tight smile on his lips.

"Counselor," she returned the greeting with an equally straight face.

"Here to pick up my son? I'm afraid he's in school at the moment."

Olivia sighed, shaking her head. She just wished they could bury the hatchet with the ADA but she could tell that swallowing his pride was not something Rafael did on a regular basis. "I'm actually here for the Goren trial."

"Oh." He looked a bit stumped. "I heard about that. How's the girl doing?"

"The defense is fighting hard, but only because they know they're losing the jury's vote. As far as the girl is concerned, she's hanging in there. Her new foster family is supportive."

"That's good to hear," he said. His hands gripped tightly on his briefcase, swinging it slightly toward the door.

It looked like he was ready to part ways when he stalled, gazing at her with softened eyes. "I apologize for questioning your ability to do your job, detective. I've come to realize that I was carried away by my protectiveness – a side of myself that I honestly thought I didn't have." He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "Anyway, I am… sorry."

Olivia's eyes widened, her mouth gaping slightly. She studied Rafael and observed that appeared visibly uncomfortable to say those words. But she was stunned that he had proved her wrong in demonstrating that he could swallow his pride and apologize. He wasn't just another haughty, Harvard-educated lawyer; he might actually have a heart underneath that expensive three-piece suit.

"Right," he said when she didn't respond. "I have to go."

"Wait." Olivia reached out for his arm but quickly pulled back just as soon as her fingertips brushed over his gray jacket. "I just wanted to say… about the protectiveness thing – all of us parents have it. Honestly, I would have done the same if it were Amanda."

The corner of his lips curled up into a small smile.

"By the way, how has it been?" She asked, walking alongside him as they crossed the hall toward the elevator. "I heard from Munch that he moved in on Saturday."

"It's an adjustment," Rafael said hesitantly, pressing the button to the ground floor. "He was cooped up in his room all weekend and only went out to the kitchen every couple of hours to get food. I didn't realize they could eat so much."

Olivia laughed. "He's sixteen? Yeah, I can imagine."

"Problem is by Sunday afternoon, I ran out of food so we ordered Chinese and he got five things off the menu," he said, scratching his temple. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. "But I know I can't keep this kid alive by feeding him take-out and junk food. What does Amanda like to snack on? Can she cook? Do you let her use your stove?"

Olivia's laugh was even heartier this time around. "Of course I let her use the stove. She's fifteen. I mean, Amanda's no budding chef and she doesn't have the patience for baking, but she can cook bacon and eggs on toast if she's hungry. She likes sweets – donuts, cakes, and pastries – but I try to limit how much I buy and I go for healthier snacks instead."

Rafael knitted his brows together. "I guess I could start buying groceries…"

"Hey," She said, pulling a pad of paper from her purse. She ripped the sheet on top and handed it to him. "This was my grocery list last week. You can probably get some idea of what to buy."

He looked over the list. There were a lot of food groups that belonged in the bottom half of the food pyramid, and a lot of different types of greens that he always thought were one and the same.

"If you need any quick, simple recipes, I can always email them to you," she added sincerely. Olivia liked the idea of sharing her excitement raising a teenager with someone else. Most times, she felt a little clueless, maybe even a little insecure, because she hadn't raised Amanda since she was a baby. Talking to Rafael about parenting made her feel confident about motherhood; it was nice having someone else looking to her for advice.

"Thanks," Rafael said, placing the list inside his jacket.

"You're welcome," she replied. They stood there at the courthouse steps with faint smiles on their faces. Olivia felt a blush rise to her cheeks and she lowered her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, I better get going. It was nice running into you, Counselor."

"You too, detective," he said, stepping out to the edge and raising his arm up to hail a cab.

When it stopped at the curb, he gallantly offered it to her. The flush on her cheeks deepened as she shook her head with a smile. "I drove."

"Oh, ok… Well, good night." He slipped into the car and closed the door, his eyes never leaving hers, even when the cab driver asked him for the address to his destination.

She stood at the sidewalk and did a small wave as the car drove off. Olivia exhaled, silently cursing herself for feeling remarkably flustered over their new ADA. Beaming inwardly, she walked down the block where she parked her car. Her daydreams interrupted by a vibration in her coat pocket. She pulled the phone out and read the name on the screen. It was as if her conscience was bringing her back down from the clouds and snapping her back to her commitments.

"Hey, Brian."


End file.
